


Somewhere in Between

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Chaptered, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a parallel life, maybe Harry and Louis would have an easier go of it. Maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Up-and-coming

Somewhere in Between

In a parallel life, maybe Harry and Louis would have an easier go of it. Maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to hide.

***

Chapter 1  
Up-and-coming

Mary Cleary glanced at the two boys as they sat down across the room from her. They were the only three customers in the tiny café—not surprising, given that it was 2 pm on a surprisingly-warm Wednesday in December. London hadn't seen such sunshine in ages. Mary had stopped in to buy a scone or croissant or something else to distract herself from the forced sabbatical the university placed on her. It had been a tedious semester filled of cleaning, dull shopping, and of not-talking with her daughter. Ginny had not done a lot of talking since her father left them. Mary was unsure why the university thought she needed time to herself to "get her head together," but she had quickly run out of interesting books to read and shitty gossip rags to toss aside. She'd taken to wandering the city and trying to write. It was going poorly.

She thought maybe the two boys looked familiar, sitting across from one another and ignoring the cups of tea on the table. They looked anguished and exhausted. Mary could relate. She wondered if she'd seen them around uni or if maybe they were acquaintances of her daughter's. She couldn't place them.

God, she was so bored.

"I was fine when it was just me," the one boy said loudly (anyone close to her daughter's age was most certainly a child, when had that happened?) and the other groaned slightly.

"But it was never just you, it's us both, and it's not fair. It's fucked up. It affected us both from the beginning!" The second boy, he was lanky and had a beanie pulled low over his ears. Where had Mary seen him before?

"I know. But at least before it at least seemed like I was doing something, protecting you I guess. Or something." The first boy had on an oversized beige jumper and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He had an angular look about him, Mary thought, realizing she was staring at two boys who were in their early twenties at the latest. Maybe they were models, she thought to herself, nursing her second cup of lukewarm coffee. She hoped they were models, considering she felt unable to stop staring at them. Besides being bored, she was also a pervert. Lovely.

“I’m sorry,” said the lanky boy, tipping his head down dejectedly. He had a few curls sticking out from underneath his cap. Mary thought he might actually be quite beautiful.

“No, it’s not your fault.” The other boy shook his head. “I just wish I could do something.” He sounded as though they had had this conversation before. It felt hard-worn and rubbed raw, like a wound that would never close. Mary had had many conversations like that, she admitted to herself. Hell, toward the end her conversations with Rupert had essentially become ruts on the side of a dirt rode for all the good they accomplished.

Boy Two, curly hair, sighed. “This whole goddamn thing is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Trouble, trouble,” the other said in a sing-song voice, smiling slightly. Maybe they were actors, Mary mused. God, was she really sitting in a café in the middle of the afternoon staring at strangers and trying to pretend she knew who they were? She was. Christ.

His companion chuckled a little. “Well at least we have time right now.”

“We’ll always have Paris,” the first boy said theatrically before taking a sip of his tea.

The second boy laughed again and shook his head. “I knew I’d regret suggesting we watch Casablanca.”

They sat in silence for a moment and Mary wondered if they were going to leave soon. She hoped not; she realized that part of her missed being their age, when everything was immediate and intense and, more than not, somehow shiny. Things had dulled for her with age, though she supposed being in an affectionless marriage had something to do with that. God, she was hopeless.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can stand this,” said the boy with the curls, a tiny whine in his voice. “I hate showboating in front of the cameras with her. It’s disgusting.”

“Maybe it’ll all be over soon.” The shorter boy put his hand on top of the other boy’s. Mary did not believe he was telling the truth to the other boy, but rather to comfort him,

“It feels like it’ll never be over.”

“Well then good thing you’re a shit actor, isn’t it? Get it all over with sooner than later.”

“Yeah.”

Then Mary realized who they were, and her attention intensified. They were in a band. Of course. The ones that Ginny was “too mature for,” the ones she insisted were obviously “all SO gay.” At the time she had said it as a joke, without real derision, but Ginny hadn’t mentioned the word “gay” in a long while.

So they really were gay, these two in this nearly-empty café. She wondered if they were hiding from someone, from the paparazzi or someone else. She wondered if they hated the headlines and the catcalls. She wondered if they hated the gossip as much as she did.

The curly-haired boy began stroking the other boy’s hand distractedly, his face downcast. The sharp-faced boy looked at him with what Mary read as intense longing, an angry, protective love. Mary wondered what it must be like to love someone that much. What it might be like to have someone look at you like that.

She had inadvertently been in a situation something like this, though from the other end of course. Not that Rupert was famous or anything but he nonetheless had tried to protect his academic reputation by dating a girl, by marrying her, rather than doing what he had actually wanted. Rupert had ruined three lives by the time the game was over, and all because of something he couldn’t help but be no matter how he tried.

Mary wanted to comfort these boys, tell them that things were changing, that people really didn’t care so much anymore. But she didn’t know if she would be lying to them.

“God, I need a drink,” said the boy with the curls.

“Drink your tea,” said the one with the angular jaw.

“A real drink.”

“We can grab one this evening, after your date.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“It’ll be over soon.”

“What, this publicity stunt or this ridiculous date?”

“Hopefully both.” The shorter boy shrugged.

“I love you too.”

It hurt to see this parallel to her life at a time when she was trying to escape it. She did not know how to console Ginny, did not know how to convince her that her father was happier now. But Ginny would just mutter that it was at their expense and she didn’t want to forgive him.

Mary wanted them to be happy—Rupert and Ginny, of course, but these two boys as well. She wanted to imagine an alternate reality in which they didn’t have to kowtow to public opinion or to agents and managers and fake girlfriends. She preferred to think of them in another life. She just wanted things to be simple.

***

Louis looked up as the door opened, smiling mechanically before he utterly lost the ability to talk. This was bad. Louis could always count on his smartarse remarks to get him out of trouble, or at least to ingratiate him to people more often than not. But no, this was a problem.

He had rung the doorbell on his client’s house thinking only innocent thoughts. When the door was opened by the most beautiful boy in the world, Louis nearly swallowed his tongue. This boy’s face had taken his breath far, far away.

“Hi!” said the boy before Louis regained speech. “Piano teacher, right? Come on in!” He threw the door wide.

Louis stepped through the doorway gingerly and without tripping. After unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he tried to set his bag down and reacted with horror as everything fell out of it onto the floor.

“Oops.” Louis was officially a genius. Oops? Really? Must salvage this somehow. “I’m Louis.” He bent to retrieve the lesson books from the floor.

“Right, nice to meet you. I’m Harry, the—nanny, I guess, or whatever. I watch the kiddos.” Then Harry, so star-bright and beautiful that Louis hadn’t managed to look at him again since that first moment, bent to help Louis pick his belongings up.

“Nice to meet you too.” Louis stood up, ridiculing himself both for his awkwardness and for being a twat. He looked down at his fitted burgundy jumper and brown cords, feeling very on-display. He momentarily wished he had worn a different outfit but then realized he was gay enough and could really stand to stop fixating on clothes so much.

Harry, for his part, was seemingly oblivious to how horribly awkward Louis was being. He held Louis’ bag aloft and handed it to him while Louis stared at the space between them. He attempted to catch his breath before asking where he should put his stuff.

“Oh, right, the piano’s in here. Hey, Eileen, your piano teacher’s here!” he called. “Mr.—wait what’s your last name?” Harry asked as he led Louis into an adjacent room.

“Tomlinson.”

“Mr. Tomlinson’s here.”

“Be right there!” the girl called from what sounded like the kitchen. Louis tried to remember how to breathe and not to stare at anything for too long.

He glanced at Harry with what he hoped was a casual smile. He envied the fact that Harry looked so comfortable while he himself felt like pulling his own hair out merely to cause a distraction. And his hair was one of his best features, so that was saying something.

Harry wore low-slung dark jeans, white chucks, and a v-neck shirt. The shirt had the face of a bulldog on it and oh God did Harry have tattoos on his bicep? Louis was going to die, here and now.

“I like your shirt,” he managed to say before sitting his bag down. Good, compliments were good.

“Oh thanks, mate. My sister gave it to me.” Something crashed in the other room and Harry muttered something to himself. “Rebecca, Jasper, who’s hurt? Be right back, the twins are whirling dervishes.” He was gone with just a hint of curly brown hair and dark denim.

A young blonde girl ran into the room grinning at him. “Hi, Mr. Tomlinson, I’m Eileen! I’m really excited about piano. How long have you been playing? Can you teach me Fur Elise? That’s my favorite song. Jasper and Rebecca are too young to learn piano, they’re just three. But I’m nine, I’m totally old enough. How long have you been playing?” She took a rasping breath and Louis laughed.

“I’ve been playing since I was seven, and yes we can learn Fur Elise if you like. We’ve got plenty of time to get there. It all depends on practicing so you can get really good!”

Eileen sat down on the piano bench and looked up at him with earnest blue eyes and chubby red cheeks. “Okay, Mr. Tom—what is it, Tomlinson? Okay, Mr. Tomlinson, that makes sense. I’ll definitely practice, because I want to be really good so I can play Fur Elise.”

Louis placed his lesson books onto the piano and began teaching her the basics of notes and scales. During the middle of the lesson, Harry poked his head into the room and asked if anyone needed water or juice or milk and Louis felt himself want to blush, but he contained himself. The rest of the lesson went smoothly, and Louis was torn between wanting it to be over (so he would stop emitting flop-sweat) and wanting to live in this moment forever.

What the fuck was he doing? This was nothing like him, this was getting out of hand. He was not this kind of person. He was self-contained, calm, sarcastic. He was stoic. He was not a drama queen (unless you asked his sisters, and they were known liars). He was a fucking adult.

But in this moment, he did not feel like an adult. He felt like a horny teenage boy—and sure, he wasn’t so far removed from his teen years, but he had a job! Hell, he had two jobs at the moment, and maybe once he decided if he was going to go back to university, he might even figure out if he wanted a “career.”

Yet here he was, at work teaching a small child about the wonders of music, and all he could do was ogle a slender nymph-boy like he was the last good thing on earth. This was very, very bad.

“Do either of you need something to drink? Water or tea or juice or something? Eileen, you haven’t had your afternoon snack yet, do you want grapes or Marmite on toast for after your lesson?”

“Both please!” Eileen called in response. “Do you want something to drink, Mr. T? Can I call you Mr. T? Do you want tea? Something else?”

“Um, I’ll say yes to the tea because I can’t turn down a cuppa and you can call me Mr. T if you really really want to. Otherwise just call me Louis.”

Eileen snorted out a giggle. “But you’re my teacher!”

“Mr. Louis?” he suggested.

“Okay, sir. That seems fair. When do you want your tea?”

“The hour’s not quite up, Eileen, we have five more minutes. So, in five minutes, I suppose.”

“We’ll be done in five minutes, Harry!” Eileen yelled, causing Louis to wince. She plunked her way through the last five minutes of the lesson before leading him by the hand into the kitchen.

He sat at the table with Eileen and Jasper, while Rebecca sat on the floor and played with blocks. Louis marveled at the energy the twins displayed, reminding him of his younger sisters. He wished he felt energetic enough to run circles around his kitchen—but then, his kitchen was the size of a shoebox, so perhaps it wouldn’t require much energy at all.

During the ten minutes he could compose himself enough to sit still, Louis tried not to stare at Harry, who was consistently up and down fixing more snacks. He turned it into a competition with himself and vowed only to glance at parts of him momentarily so as not to garner undue attention.

His hair was curly and kind of stuck up haphazardly. He certainly had at least two tattoos on his bicep. He was wearing a thin silver chain that ducked into the neck of his shirt. He smiled a lot. He had dimples and long eyelashes. And he was beautiful. Louis was absolutely fucked.

He also realized he would need to curtail his swearing one of these days if he were going to continue working with kids. And maybe he should stop drooling at the nanny, even if the nanny in question was bustling around the kitchen excitedly.

“Very domestic,” Louis stated quietly, wondering whether or not that would come off as insulting. But Harry just shrugged and gave him a grin.

“It’s relaxing, you know? Not that this is what you’d call cooking, but the idea’s the same.”

“Bet that makes you popular with the ladies,” Louis replied lamely as Jasper fidgeted with his cup of juice. Had he really just said that? What a lame attempt at sussing out someone’s dating life.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I dunno. I guess in theory or whatever. Rebecca, stop hitting your brother with the blocks, please, you know that’s not polite.”

Or not.

“So how long have you taught piano then?” Harry asked, returning to the table with more grapes for Eileen.

“Just since autumn. I also work part time for a tailor while I try to figure out what to do with my life.” Louis shrugged. “Save some money while I decide if I want to go back to university.”

“Makes sense. I’m in my third year, studying history at King’s College.”

“He tells the most boring stories ever, Mr. T. I mean really.” Eileen rolled her eyes. Louis laughed as Harry snorted into his own cup of tea.

“Cheeky today, are we? And in my free time I mind these three charming rugrats.”

“I am not ever a rugrat, you’re telling fibs!” Eileen shook her head so hard her hair swung back and forth.

“Jasper, are you eating your food or playing with it?” Harry asked in a tone nowhere near stern.

“BOF!” Jasper replied, spraying crumbs onto the table.

“I can see that. Let’s stick to eating it, though. That’s what the food is for. Thank you.”

Louis thought Harry’s voice was surprisingly deep given how—boyish? was boyish the right word?—he looked. He seemed like things made him happy. Louis hadn’t felt genuine happiness in a long while. Sure he was generally content or something like it—with his dog and his apartment and his two jobs that really did pay for everything he needed at least for now—but part of him felt he needed something more to be happy. And he envied Harry his happiness. No, he was confused by Harry’s happiness even as he envied it. Maybe he was just generally confused by Harry, wholesale. Nothing else.

“So you’re good at cooking, then?” Louis hazarded, feeling reckless and ridiculous and perhaps wishing to get to know Harry as well as he could.

“Sure. It’s a relaxing enough hobby.”

“Not if you’re bad at it like I am,” Louis said sheepishly. “It’s takeaway and cup-a-soup for me more than not.”

“No! That’s a travesty, that is. I swear.” Harry shook his head and Louis enjoyed watching his hair flop back and forth.

“Sorry, mate. Just never learned.”

“Sure sure. I’ll teach you sometime.”

“Sounds good. Anyway, I’ve gotta jet. More lessons to teach! I’ll see you lovely lot next week.”

Harry saw him out the door and Louis wasn’t able to catch his breath for twenty minutes. He was definitely fucked.  
***  
“UGH.”

“What’s wrong?”

Louis flopped down on the sofa as soon as he entered his living room. The flat was half-messy, half-clean, as per usual. Liam, a naturally neat person, had a hard time keeping up after the tornado of destruction that was Louis.

Liam was propped in a stuffed armchair, staring absently at his laptop.

“Nothing.”

“Right.”

Louis could feel Liam rolling his eyes, even if he couldn’t see him doing it.

“Mostly nothing.”

“How many lessons did you have tonight?” Oh, how Liam had the talent of getting to the bottom the matter with such ease.

“Just four.”

“Sure. And?”

“They went well.” And they had. Louis knew they had gone well. Of course they had.

“So why the face.”

“What face.”

“You’re making a face, ya numpty. If you won’t tell me why I’ll throw rubbish at you until you do.”

“FINE. Lessons.”

“Lessons went poorly?” Liam brought his dark brown eyes up to meet Louis’ light blue ones, and Louis felt slightly shamed.

“No. They went fine.”

“Oh, I see.”

“DO YOU?”

“Clearly not, you dramatic queen. If you don’t want me to throw my computer at you, please fucking tell me what the hell happened.” Liam stared at his computer screen as though he didn’t care what Louis had to say, which he clearly did. Liam pretended to be better at stoicism than he was.

“Why should I?”

“Otherwise I won’t make dinner and your skinny arse will starve, that’s why.”

“No you won’t. You’ll feel sorry for me after an hour and clean up my mess to make me feel better.”

“I will let you rot.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m not the one shrieking about my adequate piano-teaching skills,” Liam pointed out.

Louis shot up, offended. “I beg your pardon! I am more than adequate!”

“Have you quite finished?”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

Liam looked up at Louis as Louis grew less annoyed and agitated.

Louis sighed.

“So you’ve realized that you don’t have a copyright on phrases like that, then,” Liam said calmly.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve decided to tell me what’s wrong, then.”

“Eventually.”

“I’ll wait.”

And he did. The pair of them sat in silence through Louis’ squirming and Liam’s distracted typing. It felt like forever to Louis—but then, it always felt like forever until he was able to express his real feelings rather than just over-the-top bullshit. He was good with the sidetracking histrionics, not so good with the genuine emotion.

“There’s a guy,” Louis began, waiting for Liam to say something snide. Liam occasionally made snide comments, but he often had to be goaded into it. Louis was not ready for snide.

“Okay.”

“He’s probably not gay.”

“Ever the optimist you are.”

“Well, precedent’s been set, hasn’t it?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m only being as ridiculous as he is fit, okay?”

“Please tell me you didn’t fall for a student’s dad or something.”

“God, no. Their nanny.”

Liam snorted. “Classic.”

“I dropped a bunch of books at his feet and he made me tea. It took all I had not to chunder from how precious it all was.”

“Take him flowers next week.”

“Hell no. I’m not taking advice from you, I mean, you’ve been dating Dannie for seventeen years or something.”

“One, uncalled for, dick. Two, I wasn’t under the impression you wanted to date him. I figured you were just out for a fuck, as per usual.” Liam snapped his laptop closed and stood up.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, don’t be cross with me.”

“I’m not cross, I just think you’re being ridiculous. You’re panicking over nothing.” Liam padded to the kitchen.

Louis followed. “If you saw him, you’d agree that it’s not nothing.”

“I’m sure he’s lovely or whatever but he’s just a person, isn’t he?”

“…Is that supposed to cheer me up? You’re acting more pessimistic than me and I’m fucked six ways to Sunday.”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Liam set his computer down and opened the fridge.

“Did you and Dannie have another fight?”

“No. We haven’t talked today.”

“Oh. Do you want some tea?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want to get drunk and play FIFA?”

“Yes.”

***  
“Morning, Lou,” said Alex when Louis walked into the tailor shop the next morning. Considering she was his boss, Louis greeted her with a smile rather than a smirk. “Since Minnie’s leaving soon, I have a couple of people coming in to interview this afternoon. Figured you could run the front while I do that, yeah?”

“Course. Any promising candidates?” Louis asked as he dropped his bag behind the counter.

“A few. None as fit as that roommate of yours, though. He wouldn’t happen to be looking for a job, would he?”

“No, Alex. And even if he were, you couldn’t sexually harass him if you hired him. Unlike now.”

“He’s never complained,” Alex replied with a shrug.

“Because he’s too polite. He has a girlfriend, you know.”

“There’s no predicting if he’ll jump ship, all right? A girl can dream. Plus you’re off-limits for more reasons than one, Tommo.”

“I am glad you’re able to contain yourself around me, despite my godlike good looks and magnificent bum.”

“It’s the bum that tips the scale in your favor, really. Certainly not your charming personality or preference for dudes.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Together, Louis and Alex opened up the shop for the day and hours passed at a steady clip. Louis manned the front when Alex began interviewing potential replacements for Minnie. Louis was glad to see Liam come into the shop shortly before closing, because he loved watching Alex interact with Liam. Liam flustered easily.

“Thanks for coming in,” Alex said, emerging from the back room with a brunette girl who seemed about Louis’ age. “I’ll be in contact with you later this week.” She then grinned in Liam’s direction as she showed the girl out the front door.

“Hi, Liam. How’s it hanging?”

“Fine, Alex. Thanks. How are you?”

“Good. How’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s also fine, thanks for asking. How’s business?” Liam asked, flushing slightly. Louis chuckled to himself.

“Smooth. Just interviewing a replacement for Minnie since she’s leaving soon. How’s work? Motor oil treating you well?”

“Um. Sure.”

“Not looking for a tidier source of income? One that comes with surfeit compliments and a lovely view of Louis’ bum?””

“No. Thank you.” Liam shook his head vehemently.

“Okay, I think this day has had enough mentions of my bum. Time to jet, Liam. See you in the morning, Alex. I trust the sexual harassment will be out of your system by then?”

“No promises. Evening, fellas.” Alex locked the door behind them after they exited.

“Hey, I want to stop by the record store before heading home. I want to see if they have that Sinatra on vinyl yet.” Liam shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked along the pavement.

***  
It wasn’t the first time Liam had questioned his sexuality but it was the first time it scared him. The intensity of it was what scared him, really, and he didn’t like it. It had taken him long enough to adjust to Louis liking guys and Louis had disclosed that right after they’d met. Liam didn’t want to like this guy—and he didn’t like that he couldn’t not.

True, Liam had a girlfriend to be loyal to, and that would keep him from acting on any stray impulses. And he did really like her and he was really attracted to her, even if they’d been arguing more lately.

So what did that mean about him? What did that make him? Schooling hadn’t prepared him for this or taught him the proper labels or guidelines. Did sexuality have guidelines? Dating certainly seemed to, at least with Danielle. And their sex life was enjoyable and novel—and he liked her. So what did that make him?

He’d thought he’d left these questions behind him, thought these confusing feelings had long since passed. He was comfortable around Louis, felt like a brother to him—and had never felt anything but brotherly care and affection for him. With Louis, sex was just part of the package, and he didn’t make a big deal of it. So Liam had gotten used to Louis talking about guys the way he himself had always talked about girls. Louis wasn’t confusing.

Zayn was confusing. From his coiffed hair to his pristine white Chucks to his nicotine-stained fingers, Zayn was confusing. Liam thought he looked like a model and had almost laughed aloud when Zayn had admitted he modeled part-time, when not working at the record store.

Liam visited the store a lot, since it was close to Louis’ tailor and to the mechanic, where Liam worked. His excuse about the store being centrally located rang false even in his own ears. Luckily he and Louis really did love music and Louis had a record player so they could always play vinyl. But the number of times Liam visited the store was getting ridiculous. One person—hell, two people—only needed so much music.

“Yeah, it’s got a great sound to it. Vinyl just feels so much more alive,” Zayn was saying to a girl who had a tall mohawk. “You can feel the spit and dirt, you know.” He handed her what looked to Liam like an Iggy and the Stooges album before adding, “This is one of the best.” The girl nodded and moved away to peruse another aisle.

“Hey fellas, been awhile!” Zayn called, walking over to clap them both on the shoulders.

“Yeah. I just started up with a few new piano students. Got slammed,” Louis explained.

“And you?” Zayn asked, turning to Liam. “Wherefore hast thou neither written nor called?” Zayn crossed his arms.

“Wherefore?” Liam asked, feeling instantly uncomfortable.

“It means why. Why,” Zayn added again, uncrossing his arms. He was wearing slim black jeans and a gray v-neck, showing off forearms and biceps covered in an assortment of tattoos. Liam swallowed nervously.

“Coursework, I guess. Not really a good excuse.”

“You two sound so old and married,” Zayn groaned.

Louis laughed aloud. “He’s hardly my type!”

“Hey!” Liam said, not quite offended. That would be a layer of confusing he did not need.

“He likes girls,” Louis explained, sighing dramatically.

“Whatever. Don’t you guys party? Don’t you want to go out and rage?”

“Last time Louis went out and raged, he climbed on top of a bus shelter and proclaimed himself a Greek god. It was ages getting him down.” Liam looked down at Zayn’s shoes—the immaculately white Chucks, of course.

“It was my birthday!” Louis protested.

“No it wasn’t. It was July.”

Zayn snorted. “You don’t rage much then?” he asked, switching his attention to Liam.

“He claims he only has one kidney and can’t drink much.” Louis swooped down to fix the cuff on his trouser leg.

“I do only have one kidney. One working kidney, anyway. The other’s a mess of scar tissue.”

“Oh.” Zayn and Louis were both quiet a moment. “But do you go to parties, then?” Zayn asked.

“Sure. I mean yeah, sometimes,” Liam acquiesced.

“Awesome. I know this local DJ right, he’s a regular here, and he’s playing at this massive thing on Friday. We should all go. You two look like you need a night out.”

“Yeah, all right,” Louis said, beginning to fix his other already-meticulous trouser cuff. “Sounds good.”

“Sure,” Liam agreed.

“He’s a ledge, you guys’ll love it.” Zayn ducked being the counter and grabber a flier, then wrote something on the back. “Here’s the details. We should grab a pint or two first. Wrote my number on the back, just text so we can figure it out.” He handed it to Liam.

“Yeah.”

“Should be quality,” Louis agreed, sounding excited. 

Liam kept a close lid on his rising anxiety as he looked down at the flier. He felt like panicking and jumping up and down simultaneously.

“Yeah, looks fun,” he managed to choke out.

“Should be. Like I said, this guy’s a ledge. Brings out a great crowd. Be right back,” Zayn said as he returned to the counter to ring up the girl with the mohawk.

“I think I’ve heard of this guy,” Louis said, peering at the flier in Liam’s loose grip.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?” Louis asked, laughter in his voice.

“Ate a bad clam.”

“Do you like clams?” Louis countered.

“No. They’re all bad.”

“Okay. Well I’m going to look for some new headphones. Mine are falling apart. Try not to collapse til you get home.”

Liam went to peruse the selection of Sinatra. Sometimes he fancied himself a purveyor of classic music while other times he felt like an artificial hack. Mostly he felt like a hack when he tried to pretend he didn’t spend half his day covered in oil and other automotive fluids. But he loved Sinatra—music in general, really. Music made sense to him the way cars and numbers made sense to him. He wished words made more sense to him, and other people, too, sometimes. But at least he always had music to calm him down.

And he needed calming down, particularly when Zayn’s hand bumped into his as he handed Liam his purchases.

He was definitely not cool enough for this.  
***  
“So what was that?” Louis asked on their way home. When they both got off work at the same time, Liam would usually drive to save them from using the Tube. Not that city traffic was light anywhere, but Liam liked driving. Driving made Louis homicidal, so Liam rarely let him get behind the wheel.

“Clams. I said.”

“Now is not the time to make a dirty joke about your girlfriend.”

“Gross. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Why did you look like you wanted to vomit into your shoes?”

“I didn’t!”

“You’re not as good an actor as I am.”

“Thanks, Danny Zucko.”

“Do record stores suddenly make you nervous? Or girls with very punk hair?”

“No.”

“Does getting invited to parties make you nervous?”

“Kind of.”

“Oh God really?”

“Sort of.”

“Explain,” Louis demanded.

“No.”

“I tell you my problems!”

“Only because you won’t not.”

“Please?”

“I can’t really put it into words. I was just—panicking. For no reason. I think I’m just worried about my coursework.”

“The semester just started.”

“I’m doing a hard course. You try building airplanes.” Liam hated feeling defensive.

“No. I’d rather be a bum.”

“You’re not a bum.”

“Don’t change the subject. Why would getting invited to a party by Zayn make you nervous?”

Liam’s jaw clicked shut and he refused to answer.

“Does Zayn make you nervous?”

Liam tried to say no, but nothing came out.

“He does? Why?”

Liam eventually managed to clear his throat. “No, not at all.”

“Is it his hair? Are you afraid it’s going to catch fire from all the product in it? Or that a swift breeze will blow him away because he’s so thin?”

Liam barked a laugh. “Something like that.”

“Fine. Have your secrets for now. I’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Liam sighed to himself. He was pretty sure he needed to figure it out for himself first.  
***  
Louis set his spine carefully before ringing the bell for Eileen’s piano appointment. He would not make an ass of himself. Today was a lesson in smooth and calm.

Theoretically anyway.

Louis nearly started panting when Harry opened the door. “Why—”

“Hey, come in,” said a half-naked Harry.

“—are you shirtless?” And what had Louis done to deserve it? For good or for ill?

“The glorious twins teamed up to dump fruit punch on my entire torso.” Harry moved out of the doorway and removed a tea towel from his shoulder. He was literally glistening. He had clearly not cleaned off any of the liquid from his body.

“The scoundrels.” Louis followed him inside, forcing himself to remember how to speak.

“Their loss. They don’t have any left to drink and I’m not going to let them suck it out of my t-shirt.” Harry wiped the tea-towel over his tattooed chest. “I suppose it’s what I get for suggesting we pretend to be professional footballers.”

“Oh, they doused the coach?”

“Lucky me. Head on in, I’ll grab Eileen.” He left the room still wiping off parts of his body.

“Harry!” Louis heard Eileen exclaim. “Put on your shirt! We have a guest!”

“If only you could teach your younger siblings those manners. My shirt’s in the wash, covered in juice.”

“Well put on a blanket at least. You’ll get cold.”

Louis smiled at her imperious tone.

“Thank you kindly, little miss. I’ll do that. Now go in for lessons.”

Eileen tore into the living room with a grin on her face. “I practiced for an hour a day, Mr. Louis. My parents complained non-stop! But I told them you said it’s the only way to learn.”

“Which it is.”

Thankfully for Louis’ sanity, the lesson was not interrupted by a shirtless twink…whom he very much wanted to fuck.

No. No, he was at work, damn it. With children nearby.

It was all Louis could do not to cry when Harry came into the living room, still shirtless, but wearing a pink striped apron over his bare torso.

“What,” Louis stuttered, unable to say more.

“That’s not a blanket, Harry. You do not take direction very well.”

“I learned from your siblings. Hummus and pita’s ready for you, Eileen. Tea, Louis? We have peach, ginger, chamomile, and Earl Grey this time.”

“Sure, thanks.” Louis stood up. “Earl Grey sounds great.” He had regained a sense of composure, at the very least. Even if Harry was displaying his bare shoulder-blades like some kind of self-assured popular boy. He probably was, come to think of it.

He managed to make polite small talk without combusting from sexual frustration. It had really been too long since he’d had a good fuck, or even a decent one. Apparently avoiding gay guys one’s own age had its disadvantages—even if it meant he hadn’t recently had his heart broken, unlike the past four years of his life, which had been full of misery and self-loathing.

Dull was better than miserable, right?

“Mr. Louis, can I ask you a personal question?” Eileen asked.

“Sure. But I reserve the right not to answer.”

“K. Are you married?” She scooped up a dab of hummus with a triangle of pita and stared at him curiously.

“No I am not. Thanks for asking.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“I’m flattered, Eileen, but you’re a little young to be asking me to marry you. Thanks all the same.”

Eileen burst out laughing. “Not to me, silly!” Harry snorted.

“Well you should have clarified!” Louis said.

“Goofy.” Eileen finished her food and hopped out of her chair. “Can I go watch telly, Harry?”

“Only for a half hour. Then we can do some spelling okay? Scoot.” Harry took the apron off and tossed it onto the counter. “So how long have you lived in the city?” he asked, picking up plates and cups as he did so. Damn. He smelled slightly of cologne and sweet fruit punch. Fruit punch wasn’t technically an aphrodisiac, was it?

“Just a couple years. Currently just bumming around, trying to get it all together.” Louis shrugged, trying not to sound pathetic. “I’m originally from Doncaster though.”

“Family still live back there? How many siblings do you have?”

“Yeah. Four sisters. Quite an earful, really—two are twins, actually. Sometimes feels like being home when I’m here,” Louis admitted before totally realizing how that sounded.

“That sounds nice. A full house.”

“Are you an only child, then? No wait—you said you have—”

“An older sister, right.”

“Your shirt,” Louis added.

“Oh the one in the wash—”

“No, from last time, you said she gave it to you.”

“Oh right. The dog, right. Duh.”

“Do you have long left in uni? Do you live with flatmates or your girlfriend or someone?”

“A flatmate, yeah. I’ve got a year left. Not sure how I feel about that yet.”

“It’s an adjustment, sure. Makes sense.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Um. Do you want some more tea? Or something else?”

Louis felt gratified that Harry was being awkward, too, at least a little bit. So Louis didn’t actually corner the market on being uncomfortable, seemingly.

“Oh I should really head out to my next lesson. Thanks though.” Louis stood up.

“Not to worry. Another time.” They began to walk to the front door.

“Til next week, then.”

“Bye, Louis.” Harry waved one lanky, bare arm as Louis walked out the door.  
***


	2. Light 'Em Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go clubbing and drink a lot of booze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey darlings! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I'm trying to get the right tone and voice for each character, so let me know if you have any comments or criticism. Otherwise, enjoy the cute! xx

“This is stressing me out,” Liam said to Louis as they prepared to grab drinks and go to Zayn’s friend’s gig.

“Shut up, your trousers look magnificent. How do I look?!”

“You look fine, narcissist.”

“You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

“No, just don’t feel well.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am not.”

“You’d be at home in bed if you were sick. We’re getting a pint. You’re not sick.”

“Will you just—keep an eye on me, tonight? Make sure I don’t do something stupid?”

“Like kill your last kidney? Sure. It’s probably my turn anyhow.”

“Sure. Next time you can hop on a phone booth.”

“Good lad. Why you getting sloppy drunk tonight?” Louis asked happily.

“I didn’t say it would be sloppy!” Liam protested.

“So you are nervous.”

“Nope. Just get drinks.” Louis gave Liam a sidelong glance of suspicion and confusion. “Let’s grab a booth. He said he’d meet us here, so…”

“Yeah, this booth will do.” Louis plopped down. “Summon a bartender, if you please. Zayn! Over here!” Louis waved and Liam nearly swallowed his own tongue.

He would never get used to being attracted to this man. Men in general, sure, maybe someday. Not anytime soon, probably. But eventually his gay panic would abate. Of this he was sure. But not his panic about wanting to do unspeakable things to this literal male model, who probably didn’t even like guys. Like them in a “fucking you is fun” way, at least.

Maybe he really should have told Louis what was wrong. Though Louis had a way of making his own life look dramatic and ridiculous, he was actually pretty smart.

Liam let Louis take charge of the conversation for a while, which he was skilled at. For all he claimed to hate being the center of attention, he was still at-home in the spotlight. They all got pints and settled in a bit, with Louis asking how Zayn had first heard of the DJ they were going to see.

“The store. He bought stuff a few times and asked if I’d post some of his fliers and we got to talking. I’ve been to a few of his gigs over the past few months. Also, Liam mate, there’s a girl by the bar who’s been staring at you open-mouthed for like a full minute.”

“What,” Liam said, ducking down slightly.

Louis cackled. “He’s shy,” Louis eventually said through continued laughter.

“Clearly,” Zayn added.

“I have a girlfriend!” Liam protested, half to himself and half to the others.

“It’s flattering,” Zayn argued.

“No.” Liam necked a portion of beer.

“We accept the flattery we think we deserve,” Louis said with a small sigh.

“She’s gone,” Zayn said. Liam straightened up. “Is he always like this?”

“Sometimes he’s worse. Emotionally constipated, you know?” Louis sat back, having finished his drink.

“I can hear you two, you know.”

“Oh can you? My sincerest apologies.” Louis rolled his eyes.

“See how you like it. The first guy who looks twice at you? I’ll tell him you wanna get married and have his babies.” Liam crossed his arms.

“You will not.”

“Maybe I will. You don’t know.”

Zayn shook his head. “You two are ridiculous.” He ordered another round as they continued to argue. He broke them off with a “Drink up, we aren’t getting any younger” when their pints arrived, and they all took a sip. “Do you always bicker like this?”

“Only when he’s trying to be clever and I’m sick of it,” Liam said.

“Or when he’s being purposely thick,” Louis added.

“Oh! So girls gape at him a lot then?” Zayn asked amusedly.

“No. Why would they?” Liam threw out.

“Yes, they do, and guys too. You’re not my type, of course, but you have a certain rugged charm,” Louis said, pointedly raising one eyebrow.

“Whatever, Lou.”

Zayn laughed. “Nah, he’s not wrong. You’re fit, mate, don’t fake otherwise.”

Liam groaned and gave them both incredulous looks. “You’re mental.” Even with a quickly-drunk beer in his system, he could feel his panic rising.

“You’re a right piece of work, I’ll have you know.” Louis sighed.

“Yes, thank you. It’s taken years of practice.” Liam finished the rest of his drink.

“Right. Okay, this dynamic is gonna take time to get used to,” Zayn said, shaking his head.

Liam thought it was going to be a very long evening.

***

They eventually arrived at what looked like some kind of airplane hangar. Zayn dragged them to the DJ booth to meet his friend, whose name turned out to be Niall. He was Irish with blondish-brownish hair and an easy smile.

Introductions went around and Niall told them to buy drinks on his tab. “And you two, try to get Zayn to dance.”

“For God’s sake, Niall, you know I don’t dance,” Zayn countered, laughing and shaking his head.

“If you get drunk, you’ll forget that fact, Zayn, and you know it.” Niall snapped his headphones on and said he’d join them in between his sets.

Louis leaned close to Liam and muttered, “Whichever of us gets him to dance gets a tenner from the other.”

“Deal,” Liam agreed, shaking him on it. They made their way to the bar through the growing crowd. Clearly, Niall was a popular DJ.

As the music got louder, Louis ordered a beer. He noted that the male bartender gave Zayn a wide smile and brushed his hand when delivering his drink. It was going to be that kind of night, Louis was sure.

He turned away, smiling to himself, and he stopped short. He was suddenly and acutely aware of his own heartbeat, could feel his pulse violent in his own head.

Harry was here.

He was enjoying the dance floor, acting as if he owned it. He looked careless and filled to the top with genuine joy. He was beautiful. His hair caught the neons of the dark club and the light flared around him, giving him the look of a manic angel.

Louis was simultaneously drawn in and repulsed. He broke everything beautiful. He should not even be looking at this boy, not like this. He sensed impending doom, and it was fueled directly by his own desire.

Louis threw an arm out and bumped Liam’s chest. “That’s him.”

“Him who? Wait, him him?” Liam asked, excited.

Louis needed to back away. Now.

“Go talk to him,” Liam demanded.

“No. I’ll just crawl into a dark, warm pit. And stay there til I die.” Louis tried to walk away from Liam turned him back toward Harry. Liam spun him back around with a laugh. Harry spotted Louis through the shifting neon lights and launched himself forward with a grin. He bounded into Louis’ chest and gave him a hard hug.

Louis was officially ready to die. Right here and absolutely right now. For the first time, he felt complete. Then he felt weak with relief.

***

“That’s actually kind of cute,” Zayn said as he and Liam watched Louis and Harry spastically throwing themselves around the dance floor.

“I guess,” said Liam with a laugh.

“So are you liking the gig?” Zayn asked, his words coming out in a rush of gentle slurring and comfortable proximity.

“Yes! Absolutely.” This, Liam didn’t have to pretend. He absolutely liked the music, and even though he didn’t really like to dance, he enjoyed watching others, hopefully not in a creepy way.

“Glad I’m not the only one who can’t dance,” Zayn said, pointing to Louis with a chuckle.

“Yeah. Too bad he promised not to let me get too drunk and belligerent tonight.”

“Belligerent? You? Never.”

“Yeah. Well.” Liam shrugged.

“What, afraid you’ll do something stupid?”

“Yes.”

Zayn slung an arm across Liam’s shoulders. “I’ll watch out for you, mate. Never fear.”

Liam looked at him from the side of his eye. Zayn’s hair was particularly tall tonight, and somehow a dash of glitter had dabbed onto his cheek. He ruffled Liam’s hair.

“Just don’t jump onto a bus shelter. Otherwise I’ve got you covered.” Zayn knocked his shoulder against Liam’s. “I like your jacket. May have to steal that from you one of these days.”

“Oh. Oh, okay.”

“Jesus, I’ll need another drink if they’re going to keep making that spectacle.”

“Tenner says they’ll be sucking face by the end of the night,” Liam bet.

“You’re on.”

“So no dancing, then?”

“Hell no.”

“What do you like to do then?”

“Music. Singing, mostly, I guess. Skateboarding. I probably smoke too much, too, if you call that a hobby.”

“Not really.”

“No, not really. So what do you do?”

Besides daydream about fucking Zayn over a table, not much. “Coursework takes up a lot of my time lately, but I’m also really into cars. Music too, obviously. You know. Stuff.”

“Stuff that’s not slam-dancing under neon lights?”

“Slam-dancing has its place, but I’m not really feeling it right now. Some other time, maybe.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t offering. I don’t dance.”

“I gathered that. So you really don’t think these two will at least snog tonight?” Liam asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Tonight? No. Louis’ all in his head and that guy’s oblivious. What’s his name?”

“I think it’s Harry,” Liam guessed.

“Okay. Well it seems like he’s feeling it, you know, but he’s not gonna act on it anytime soon.”

“Shit.”

“What, a hopeless romantic? Or just mad you lost out on ten quid?”

“Neither. Both. Not sure. I need another drink.”

“Good idea,” Zayn agreed, so they both headed to the bar. Zayn ordered them each a shot of tequila and a pint. They helped to quell some of Liam’s intense panic, though his nerves were still alight.

He would definitely need to ask Louis for advice, once they were in real life, away from bouncing dancers and pounding bass. Somewhere not so hot and sparkly and intense. Maybe somewhere sober.

Because Liam didn’t get the impression that Zayn was going to be going away any time soon. All indications pointed to him wanting to be friends.

Again, Liam was glad to fall back on his loyalty to his girlfriend. And he really did like her—true, she’d been busy lately going to auditions and practicing her routines, but they always got along when they were together. And she liked to teach him some dance moves, ones that he never tried to replicate in public unless compensated very well for his time. Compensated with, for instance, tequila.

Niall took shots with them in-between sets, riffing about the crown and asking Liam questions about himself. When Harry and Louis rejoined the group, Niall clapped Harry on the back jovially.

“Saw you on the dance floor, Hazza, looking good.” He looked from Harry to Louis. “You know these fine fellas too?”

“Yeah. Well, I know Louis from work with the Finches and he—I don’t know how he knows these guys,” Harry admitted slowly, cocking his head to one side.

“Liam’s my flatmate and Zayn works at the record store near my second job. And Zayn introduced us to Niall,” said Louis.

“I met Niall at a uni party he worked last year,” Harry explained. “Small world, eh?”

“And getting smaller,” Liam said, swallowing jaggedly.

“What? Why?” Louis asked.

“I just saw Danielle.” Liam pointed into the crowd where he’d spotted her.

“Dannie? Where?” Louis whipped around wildly.

“You know that’s not her name,” Liam muttered, trying to peer over the crowd.

“Who?” Zayn asked, ducking closer to Liam’s ear.

“Girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Where’d she go?” Louis asked, standing on his toes to peer over the crowd.

“Not sure. I lost her,” Liam responded.

“Let’s go find her,” Zayn said, grabbing Liam’s wrist and dragging him into the crowd.

Liam wasn’t sure he wanted Danielle and Zayn meeting—he thought he wanted those two parts of his life separate—but there was little he could do for it now. He spotted Danielle and waved as he walked sideways through the crowd.

“Hey babe!” she yelled over the music. “How’s your lads’ night?” She tiptoed up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Good,” he called back, feeling as though he was speaking very loudly. “How are you and the girls?” he asked, nodding in the direction of Danielle’s friends.

“Great!” Danielle peered curiously at Zayn, who stood by Liam’s elbow.

“This is Zayn, I’ve mentioned him to you before I think.” Liam couldn’t look at Zayn’s face, not without staring. Not without taking too many moments to absorb how long his eyelashes were or how stupidly perfect his quiff looked. So he stared at Danielle, who was also very pretty. He had always thought she was pretty.

Zayn stuck out a hand in her direction. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Danielle said, shaking his hand. Then she slung her arm through Liam’s. “Hey girls, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go get a drink,” she said to her friends.

Liam returned to the bar as Danielle and Zayn joined Louis, Harry, and Niall to play another round of introductions. Before returning with a tray of drinks for everyone, he bought himself another shot, wondering how much irreversible damage he was doing to his body.

***

Louis could feel his heart practically vibrating in his chest. His mind wouldn’t even stay still for two moments at a time, not when Harry was standing next to him. Not like this.

They had danced. Louis didn’t hate dancing, really—he could bump and grind with the best of them—but it wasn’t precisely his forte. But apparently throwing himself into the air with utter abandonment was right in his wheelhouse. Apparently Harry was his forte.

Or at least, tipsy dancing with him was.

Doom was definitely impending, because Harry’s mouth looked very inviting and so did his hair and his collarbones (which were absolutely on-display beneath Harry’s loose shirt collar). Louis couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Maybe an eventual kiss wasn’t out of the question—not that Louis would make that move, he couldn’t do it. Not now certainly, and maybe never.

But he was standing next to Harry and he could feel Harry’s body heat radiating off him. Louis was—exhilarated, exhilarated felt like the right word. He felt very, very alive. A bit confused, but alive.

And just when he was beginning to second-guess the situation—suppose Harry didn’t like guys or was just being nice or was just drunk—Harry shot him a wild, beautiful smile and Louis was once again hooked.

Niall ducked down to whisper something in Harry’s ear before returning to the DJ booth.

“His second set’s starting,” Harry explained. “Come on, let’s get drinks.”

Louis saw Liam eyeing him with one brow quirked and Louis shrugged.

“Hey Dannie,” Louis said as he passed Danielle. “Slick moves. I haven’t seen you dance in ages.”

“Hi, LouLou. Save me a dance?” she asked, gently tossing back her curly hair.

“Sure thing.” He continued to thread his way to the bar, felling jelly-limbed behind Harry.

“Drinks,” Harry rumbled in a low voice, drumming his fingers on the bar. “Pints for the dancing queens!” he requested when the bartender asked what he wanted.

And that was when Louis decided Harry probably liked guys at least a little bit.

“So who’s that girl?” Harry asked as he collected their drinks.

“Liam’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Huh.” Harry took a sip of his beer.

“Danielle. Why?”

“I thought Liam was with that other guy.”

“What?” Louis squeaked. “Really?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Zayn’s his name, right? He’s got something for Liam rolling around in there, I think.”

“Oh.” Louis was flabbergasted—flabbergasted was definitely the right word.

“But he has a girlfriend.”

“Danielle,” Louis agreed.

“Interesting,” Harry said, taking another sip of his beer.

“Yes,” Louis agreed.

Suddenly, Harry laughed and coughed. “Got head down the wrong chute,” he explained.

“What?” Louis felt very slow on the uptake—and also very perverted.

“Swallowed beer too quick, got some up my nose. What’d you think I meant?”

“You don’t want to know,” Louis promised.

Harry laughed loudly. “Penis jokes!”

“Right.” Louis cleared his throat. “Damn, Niall’s really having fun.” Louis pointed to the DJ booth where Niall was head-banging back and forth.

“He said we should all go back to his after this. Somehow he manages to bring back hordes of folks each weekend but it’s always a good time.”

“All right. I’d have to say I’m in, then.”

“Good. He gets very cross when he doesn’t have a foosball competitor. Though listening to his drunken Irish ranting is always entertaining,” Harry amended.

“I’m better at real football than foosball, but okay.” Louis shrugged. “Help me keep an eye on Liam? There’s something going down he won’t talk about and I don’t want him falling in a gutter.”

“I can manhandle him if need be. I’ve got the muscles of a man twice my weight,” Harry assured him.

“Well you’ve got five inches on me.”

“Five inches of what?” Harry asked, looking shocked but laughing at the same time.

“Height, arsehole,” Louis said, knocking his shoulder against Harry’s arm with a laugh.

“What about my arse?” Harry cupped his own behind and shook his hips. “It’s not particularly majestic, unfortunately.”

“How very tragic,” Louis replied, rolling his eyes. Great, now he was staring at Harry’s ass. He rocketed his glance upward and Harry smiled at him warmly.

Doom.

***

The group needed two cabs to make it back to Niall’s, as he had collected a small knot of followers, mostly girls.

“Weyhey!” Niall called as everyone piled out of the cars. “Welcome, ladies and lads,” he said as he fumbled with his keys. “The party continues.”

They tramped into his flat. Danielle was clutching Liam’s hand and Liam was unsure whether she was trying to keep him upright. He hadn’t drunk that much—but it really didn’t take much to drop him to the ground. He was trying not to stare openly at Zayn’s wide eyes or long lashes. Maybe he was too drunk to have followed Niall back to his flat, even with a small entourage of caretakers.

Niall’s flat was spacious and looked recently remodeled. Most of them sprawled on the furniture in the living room but Niall challenged Louis to a foosball death-match.

“Hey Niall, can I rifle through your cupboards?” Harry yelled from the other room. “Can I make pancakes, Niall?”

“Go for it, Haz. Put chocolate sauce on mine, please,” Niall said from one side of the foosball table.

Liam made sure to sit across the room from Zayn, which would keep him from touching him at all. Instead he kept his leg pressed against Danielle’s. She was talking about a dance audition with one of her friends, so Liam tuned out and watched Louis violently flailing around the foosball table. God, that kid was uncoordinated.

Liam was startled when the girl on Danielle’s right side offered her a smoking glass piece.

“Where’d that come from?” Liam asked, glancing around as Danielle shook her head and passed it to him.

“My pocket,” Zayn said gently, raising a hand.

“Oh.” Liam took a hit, feeling like he was back in college. He hadn’t smoked in months, worrying it was screwing with his uni coursework. But he was already drunk and he would give almost anything to feel calm and collected right now.

“That’s my hobby that’s not a hobby.” Zayn lounged sideways into the chair he was sitting in.

“I haven’t smoked in a while,” Liam said, coughing slightly.

“Ha, Zayn’s always fucking blazed,” Niall called, then cheered when he made a goal. “You’d think he’d eat as much as me, but not really.”

“Just cuz I’m not obsessed with Nando’s doesn’t mean I don’t eat,” Zayn countered.

“You’re skinny as a rail, kid,” Danielle said, leaning her head onto Liam’s shoulder.

Two girls whose names Liam didn’t know walked into the kitchen to get drinks. One then moved to watch the foosball match. The other girl asked if she could turn on some music and “dance about her feelings.”

Liam didn’t always understand dancers.

So Niall turned on some of the re-mixes he’d made. Harry brought in stacks of pancakes for everyone then started drunkenly dancing with the girl who’d requested music. Zayn, two of Danielle’s friends, and Liam passed the piece back and forth as the others eventually began dancing and drinking and eating in turn.

Eventually Zayn stood up and moved to the sofa with Liam and Danielle. “You might have to pay up, my friend. I’m not seeing that happening tonight.” He gestured to Harry and Louis with his chin. The were each showing off their worst dance moves (the sprinkler, running man, and the Carlton), but they weren’t standing as closely together as Liam had expected they would.

“Maybe you’re right.” Liam shrugged, pulling out his wallet to hand Zayn ten quid.

“Come on, don’t give up hope,” Danielle said after Liam explained the bet to her. “Lou’s too gay to function.”

“Yeah, and self-conscious as fuck, too,” Liam said.

“That’s a shame,” Zayn replied sadly.

“Something’s bound to happen though, right?” Danielle asked, stretching her arms up in the air.

“Yeah,” Zayn and Liam agreed.

“Good.” Danielle stood up to get another drink, leaving Zayn and Liam and one other girl to continue smoking lazily.

One of the other girls—not Danielle’s friend but someone Niall had convinced to tag along regardless—curled up on the sofa on Zayn’s other side, pulling her limbs in like a cat. Zayn moved to the floor to give her space, parking himself next to Liam’s legs. Liam sighed internally, glad to have liquor and THC in his system.

***

Liam awoke confused and sweaty on the couch with Danielle nestled beside him. Somewhere during the night they’d been covered with a blanket.

Also somewhere in the night, Liam’s arm had fallen off the side of the sofa. His hand was currently resting on Zayn’s hair. Zayn was face-down and still asleep when Liam tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Niall had apparently fallen asleep on Harry’s torso, despite the fact that this was his flat and he likely had a bedroom and bed somewhere. Louis had fallen asleep in a chair with his legs stretched across an ottoman. Two of Danielle’s friends were snuggled together beneath the foosball table while another was sprawled on the other side of Zayn, underneath a large pile of blankets.

Liam gingerly moved his hand from atop Zayn’s hair and he heard a shuffling noise behind him. A girl—he thought her name was Hannah—was moving bleary-eyed out of a side room, covered in a duvet. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door while Liam tried to decide if he should attempt to fall back asleep.

Danielle was very warm against his side—no doubt this was one reason Liam was unusually hot at the moment. He brushed her hair off her forehead and closed his eyes against the rising sun.

***  
“Will you lay off,” Louis heard himself croaking before he realized he was awake.

“Good morning to you too,” Liam responded, hitting him in the face with a pillow.

“Early,” Zayn muttered, pulling a blanket over himself. “Must kill early.”

“”It’s nearly eleven,” Danielle countered from the couch where she sat cross-legged holding a cup of coffee.

“Are there any more pancakes?” Niall asked as he pulled a hoodie over his shirt.

“No,” Harry groaned from the floor, covering his face with one arm. “We ate them all.”

“And will you make me more if I ask nicely?” Niall requested sweetly.

“Probably.” Harry sighed. “Yeah, all right.”

“Thanks.”

“I feel like I got trampled by a horse,” Zayn said mournfully.

“You can hardly tell. Literal male model,” Liam joked weakly. Louis noted the peculiar tone in his voice, even as he cursed the sunlight pouring into the room.

“A model whose blood is currently laced with tequila and beer. Bad combo,” Zayn added. “How are you not in agony? Don’t you only have one kidney or something?”

And suddenly Louis was paying even closer attention to the conversation. Maybe Harry was right. Maybe this was what Liam was panicking about. Louis tried not to smile.

“Yeah, actually I do kind of feel like shit but I’m trying to soldier on bravely.”

“There’s a good man,” Niall said, moving to the kitchen.

“He is, isn’t he?” Zayn said, chuckling. “Think we ought to keep him around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, lovely folks! xx


	3. Swept into the Slipstream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banter, smut, and an eventful date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to pick up the pace on the plotlines here. Hopefully it's not TOO quick a jump, as I think it all still makes sense. Comments and crit are totally appreciated, lovelies! xx

“Okay, we are definitely going to need to chat about that,” Louis said as he slammed the door to their flat.

“Fun night yeah?” Liam asked, bustling his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Yes, it was. But I think I’m starting to put two and two together, here.”

“Skip the codes and mystery, dude. What are you on about?”

“You and the brown-eyed bad boy, smoking in the corner all casual-like.”

“You’re upset at me for smoking?” Liam asked, confused. “It’s not exactly outside the realm of my character to do that.”

“Not that. Though I suppose the whole liking-a-boy-thing is also outside the realm of your character,” Louis mused.

“What.”

“Exactly. What is going on with you two?”

“We hung out at a club and he smoked me out.”

“Goddamn it, Liam, stop pretending I’m insinuating innocent things and learn to think with your dick!”

“I’m lost.”

“That much is clear.” Louis rolled his eyes. “You have no idea how much you like him, do you?”

Liam swallowed. Maybe it really was time to discuss this with Louis. “I’m aware of how much I like him.”

“A-ha!”

“I’m saying I do like him, you idiot!”

“Exactly!”

“You’re only just picking up on this, then, are you?”

“Well Harry might have confirmed that he was getting the same vibe I was. You two were practically radiating it, after all.”

“Radiating what?”

“Lust.”

Liam snorted.

“Fine, mutual attraction, then.”

“I have a girlfriend, Louis.”

“Look, I get it. You’re stuck in the closet of confused bicuriousity. Or whatever we’re going to call this. But sparks are sparks, and I get that it’s freaking you out a bit. So come over here and talk to Daddy Louis.”

Liam groaned. “I’m never speaking to you again.” He left the kitchen with his hand on his forehead.

“Do you need any sex tips?”

“Goddamn it, Louis!”

“Anal’s not supposed to hurt, Liam. And make sure to use plenty of lube! I can lend you a book if—”

“Fuck off!” Liam yelled as he stormed into his room and shut the door.

“Come back out when you need to talk about it, then,” Louis replied, chuckling.

But Liam didn’t want to think about it, this situation, not right now. He still felt like his body was coming down from a high, which he supposed was the hangover and the excitement and his nervousness. He didn’t want to figure out what Zayn was to him. He preferred just to think about—Zayn, really.

Liam sighed and collapsed onto his bed. It was mid-afternoon and he really should be focusing on his coursework, but all he could think of was the shape of Zayn’s lips. Shit, he was turning into a sap. Louis was bound to make fun of him once he found out the extent of this ridiculous thing.

Feeling grimey, he shed his jeans and shirt before collapsing onto his bed again. For the life of him, he couldn’t get Zayn’s mouth out of his mind. Liam bit his own bottom lip and strained to hear noises from Louis’ room. He heard nothing.

God. Was he really going to do this?

He already knew he was.

Liam quietly locked his door and settled back onto his mattress, feeling both ashamed and lightly aroused. He pulled open the drawer of his side-table and rummaged until he found lotion, then he yanked his boxers down to his ankles and kicked them off. He slicked some lotion onto his cock—he had lube in his side-drawer but fuck that stuff was expensive, and he was a struggling uni student, right—and rubbed himself lightly.

And when he was instantly hard, part of him hated himself for it. He hated that one guy (one _literal male model_ ) could do this to him. Yet he relished the feeling that ran through him as he ran his fist down his dick, thinking of raw pink lips and a ragged voice in his ear.

He thought of running his hands down Zayn’s sides, of snaking his hands into the waistband of Zayn’s low-slung jeans. He thought, desperately, of how badly he wanted to rub his hips against own and to grind himself into Zayn’s ass.

And Liam was suddenly very glad he had a lock on his door.

He began pumping his fist faster as he thought of Zayn’s lips pursed tightly against his, daring them to go lower, daring his imaginary conquest to bite his collarbone and moan against his neck. He pretended his own hand was someone else’s, pretended to be fucking the beautiful mouth he’d seen just hours ago. He felt dirty but exhilarated, and just a little scared.

His backed arched slightly as he came onto his own chest, mewling lightly in a way that sounded pathetic in his own ears. 

Liam gradually caught his breath as his come cooled on his chest. He was going to be very embarrassed the next time he saw Zayn.

***

Louis held his breath as he rang the Finchers’ bell for Eileen’s next lesson. He was glad to se he needn’t have worried: Harry answered the door and immediately gave Louis a fierce hug. Louis momentarily wondered if he had made some kind of deal with the devil to deserve this kind of treatment. He thought selling his soul might be worth it if it meant getting to see Harry’s dick.

And as soon as that thought went through his mind, his cheeks went bright pink. Goddamn it.

“Good to see you! I need to talk to you.”

“Are you pregnant?” Louis deadpanned, trying to smolder in Harry’s direction. “Because if you are it’s definitely not mine.” He followed Harry into the sitting room and set his bag down by the piano.

Harry snorted. “Of course not, I haven’t even seen you with your kit off yet. No, it’s not that.” Louis didn’t even have time to blush again before Harry changed the subject. “What should we do about Liam and Zayn? I need your input.”

“What? Zayn and Liam?”

“I’m an amateur matchmaker, Louis. And those two are clearly head-over-nuts mad for each other.”

Louis tried to quiet his inner mental breakdown and focus on Harry’s words rather than his dick-sucking lips. It was perhaps not working very well.

“God, Harry. Are there really enough hours in the day? Are you sure you’re a uni student too? How do you find the time to match-make?”

“I’m honing my craft. I intend to be a trophy wife someday, and the duties of a trophy wife include marrying off her friends to eligible bachelors.”

Louis rolled his eyes but was decidedly amused. “Liam has a girlfriend, though, mate.”

Harry sighed. “Forgot. Are they on the skids, do you think?”

“Not sure.”

“Can I pretend they are?”

Louis laughed. “If you like.”

“Maybe we can trick Liam into doing something manly and helpful like offering to snake his pipes or something—” Harry mused quietly.

“There’s matchmaking and then there’s directing pornographic movies,” Louis pointed out, feeling his cheeks flush against his will. “Do you make a habit of conflating porn with romance?” Oh god why did he just ask that, damn it all to hell.

Harry graced him with a slow smile. “Feisty. Are you fishing for information for personal reasons?”

And Louis was suddenly blushing again. This was unnecessarily difficult. Louis thought he might have lost control of his tongue. “Um.” Brilliant conversationalist, he was.

“Because there are children in the next room, mate, and this is verging on inappropriate.”

“What?” Louis was most certainly going to regret this conversation at some point. “You brought up the pipe-snaking, not me.”

“The heart wants what it wants.” Harry made a casual grab for his crotch and grinned at Louis. Louis’ pulse fluttered feebly. He wondered if he was having a panic attack. Could someone get a panic attack from getting propositioned by a fit bloke?

Because that was seemingly what was happening. Maybe.

“I. Um. See, the thing is,” Louis sputtered.

“You’re the very picture of composure, you are.”

“I’m lost.”

“We can talk about it later. Eileen’s the real reason you’re here, after all. Another day another quid.” Harry winked and walked out of the room to collect Eileen.

The afternoon’s lesson was fairly uneventful compared to the conversation he had just had with Harry. Eileen told him she thought he looked pretty, the twins knocked over a houseplant, and Louis could not get his stomach or heart to settle.

All in all, it was fine. Of course it was.

Harry made him tea like it was their routine, and Louis supposed maybe it was. Louis pointedly refused to discuss anything serious with Harry until the kids vacated the room, and even when they were carefully ensconced in front of the telly, Louis was unsure he would be able to broach the subject again.

“And I’m not suggesting we break Liam and his gf up,” Harry began in a reasonable tone.

“No.”

“Because she really does seem lovely.”

“She’s a peach.”

“But my way is much more fun, that’s all.”

Louis’ eyes fluttered closed momentarily before he chanced a look at Harry. “I’m sure it is.”

“It’s not like I take joy in other people’s pain or anything,” Harry continued, biting his bottom lip gently. “This is the face of an angel, not a monster.” He gestured to his visage and smirked.

Louis wondered if Harry was trying to be cute, because while Louis was simultaneously turned-on and laughing, Harry was being _anything_ but cute. He wanted Harry to bruise him. That was decidedly not a cute thought.

But if Louis let this happen, he was going to break that beautiful boy’s heart—he was going to shatter his entire world. He couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t manage anything but light banter and flushing cheeks. He would not ruin this. Not again.

“So you know the effect you have on people, then,” Louis responded. Yet here he was, going about this all wrong. 

Abort, abort. 

Louis took a sip of his tea and tried not to cry out of sexual frustration.

“I’ve been made aware.” Harry shrugged. “So. Let’s get dinner sometime.”

“What?” Louis had misheard. He was positive he had misheard something. Everything, even. This was not going according to plan.

“That way we can strategize and I can stare at you without getting pummeled by sippy cups and requests for sugary biscuits from this lot.” Harry gestured into the other room where the Fincher kids were sitting quietly in front of the television.

“I don’t understand.”

Harry quirked his head to the side. “I wouldn’t have taken you for dense. Stupidly good-looking, maybe, but not dense.”

“So you’re—”

“Asking you on a date, Louis,” Harry responded, clearly amused at his expense. “Did I misread the cues?”

Louis swallowed. “No. Not at all.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay. Are you turning me down?”

“I’m—not. Not turning you down.”

“Good.”

“This is a terrible idea, though.”

“Keep telling yourself that, stud.”

***

Liam forced himself to visit the record store out of stupidity and stubbornness. He wanted to prove to himself that he could handle being just friends with Zayn and not die of discomfort or frustration. Or embarrassment.

He broke into a grin as soon as he walked in the door, though, and he cursed himself silently. He was not particularly good at playing it smooth.

Zayn waved at him casually, rolling his eyes and gesturing to a customer on his left. Liam snorted to himself when he realized she was holding up a vinyl copy of Taylor Swift’s most recent album.

A thought hit Liam and he frowned. He should probably tell Danielle about this thing. This infatuation? Crush? He wasn’t sure what to call it. His gay panic? But he wasn’t sure how she would react, to be honest.

She wouldn’t hate him for it and she probably wouldn’t even mind. But his stomach clenched at the thought of telling anyone but Louis about it. He doubted he could even tell Zayn himself.

Because Liam would never cheat. He simply wouldn’t. On the list of terrible things he was capable of, even murder was listed higher than infidelity.

But he could look, couldn’t he?

Well, even if he couldn’t, he certainly was.

He moved his stare to Zayn’s hips, currently clad in black denim and looking magnificently bony. Liam realized he wanted to grip Zayn’s hips hard enough to leave a mark, and he blushed at the thought.

He blushed harder as Zayn walked towards him.

“Looking for something specific, mate?”

“Not really, no. Just figured I’d come round.” Liam had no idea what he was saying. Words were simply falling out of his mouth unbidden.

“Fair enough. Always good to see you. You may want to check this out…” He trailed off, leading Liam to the New Arrivals section of the shop.

Liam flicked through the albums, aware that Zayn was watching him. “That bet shaping up at all since the weekend?” Zayn asked.

Liam smiled. “Not sure, but I think so. I snagged Harry’s number, so I’ve been sending him encouraging texts about them kissing and holding hands and boning the night away.”

“Precious. Sounds like you’re a great influence on him, then.” Zayn rolled his eyes.

Liam put himself out on a ledge by saying, “Jealous? You want me to talk to you about boning too? Or romance or whatever?” He mentally kicked himself, but supposed it was too late to retract. Look but don’t touch. _Look but don’t touch._

“Do I want to talk about romance with the fit man who has a girlfriend?” Zayn said with a laugh. “Not at this particular moment, no. The situation at hand is frustrating enough.”

Shit. Fit?

“I’m sorry.” Liam backed away slightly, reeling from Zayn’s casual reaction to his inadvertent rejection. “I didn’t mean to imply anything like that.”

“Are you?”

Liam blinked for at least thirty seconds.

“I am. Sorry, I mean.” Liam swallowed. “Are we okay? Do you want me to leave?”

“We’re fine. I’m not going to jump you just because you have a nice jaw and puppy-dog eyes, you twat. I respect our friendship more than that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Zayn chuckled. “We’re good. I know you’re all up in your head about it but seriously. Calm the fuck down.”

Liam nodded, casting his eyes down to the carpet. “Can do.”

Zayn shook his head. “You look like you need a fucking Xanax.”

“I have my moments.” Liam shrugged.

“Right. I’m gonna give your panic attack some space and go help this tween. Be back.”

Puppy-dog eyes? A nice jaw? Fit? What world was Zayn living in, exactly, and why in god’s name did he think Liam was attractive? Zayn the model who subsisted on nothing but coolness, who had an aura of confidence Liam could never hope to touch. Zayn, who was currently making a teenage girl stutter simply by fluttering his long eyelashes at her.

Liam was not cool enough for this.

***

Harry and Louis’ date did not include much strategizing about setting up Liam with Zayn. At first it involved Louis feeling anxious and insecure about his outfit choice (dark, slim jeans and a striped shirt, which he may have worn to show that he, too, had tattoos) and about conversation topics and about how awkward his life would be when Harry stopped liking him.

It involved Harry giving him small, slow smiles that just barely showed his dimples. It involved Harry asking about his family and why he’d moved to London and how long he’d been interested in music. It involved Harry telling a long-winded and adorably boring story about a mallard.

And eventually Louis calmed down. He calmed down enough to make Harry laugh at a series of witticisms. Louis swelled with pride. He managed to ask Harry about his family, about school, and about when he had come out.

And even though Louis was nervous beyond words, things on this date were going smoothly.

“Are you having fun?” Harry asked abruptly.

Louis nodded, flushing slightly. “I am. Yes I am.”

“Me too. Whenever I look at you, it feels like I have sea creatures in my stomach and they’re throwing a rowdy bar mitzvah.” Harry wriggled in his seat.

Louis snorted. “Are you even real?”

Harry graced him with a gorgeous smile. “I am indeed. I may have insubstantial pipe-cleaner-esque arms, but they are not so insubstantial that they do not exist.”

“I like you,” Louis blurted out before realizing he was going to say something.

“This was inevitable. Everyone eventually likes me. I’m like a baby sloth.”

Louis laughed again. He was doing a lot of laughing lately. He might get used to this.

“I like you too,” Harry added in a low drawl.

Louis didn’t understand how someone so adorable and innocent-looking had a voice that sounded like he’d been deep-throating all evening. Harry’s voice was rough and raw and goddamn it he was beautiful.

“This is going to end horribly, isn’t it?”

“What, this date?” Harry looked confused, and even that was adorable. “Are you planning to shove me down some stairs or something?”

“No, I mean—this, like this.” He gestured to himself and to Harry.

“No it won’t. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Harry’s earnestness scared Louis. Harry was most certainly a man, but Louis was suddenly aware that he loved like a little boy—that he fell with no pretension and he would let himself get his knees scraped and bloody and scarred with no concern for himself. Harry would throw himself off a building for someone he loved. 

Louis was scared about hurting this beautiful boy. He was scared of wrecking him.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“I’m a big boy.”

“I don’t want to ruin you.”

“I’m not a baby, Lou.”

“Did you just call me Lou?”

“It’s going to be okayyyyy,” Harry said in a sing-song voice. “I prooomise.”

“Fuck you,” Louis said with a smile.

“Not if I fuck you first.”

***

As Liam paid for his purchases at the record store, Zayn maneuvered the way out of their awkward conversation smoothly. Liam suspected that Zayn was always smooth. He was envious of that smoothness.

Yet Liam realized he felt a bit better as he walked up the stairs to his and Louis’ flat. Sure, he was still experiencing a bit of gay panic, but Zayn seemed willing to tolerate him. And what more could you ask for from a friend? Tolerance was really all he could hope for at this point.

He stopped short right outside the door to their flat when he realized Danielle was sitting on the floor, on top of their doormat. She had tears in her eyes.

“I need to talk to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Criticism? Anyone spot any stray Americanisms I should fix to Britishisms? xx


	4. Walk a thousand miles to fall down at your door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM PEDDLING SMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's getting smutty, y'all. And a bunch of angst. And some cuteness, too, of course. Comments, criticism, and all the rest are very much appreciated. xx

A furious Liam stood outside the record store, harshly clutching one of his biceps in his hand. He knew he was bruising his own arm, but at this moment he didn’t care.

Danielle. Fucking Danielle. He had stormed out of the flat and come directly here, and he had no idea what he was going to do. Right now he was fuming, and all he could focus on was his fury.

He had punched a wall on the way out of his flat and his hand was still throbbing. The pain was useful though—it was grounding him into reality and reminding him that he hadn’t actually died, just because he felt like he was near death. The pain was sobering him and making him feel less psychotic with rage.

He wanted to burn something to the ground, wanted to turn something to ash so he could set that aflame as well. The sensible side of him said he would certainly regret it if he hurt someone, but right now his brain was seething. He had never felt more alive, and he thought his skin might actually be crackling with anger and pain.

Liam had no idea how long he stood against the wall outside the record store, only that it got dark as he waited. He did not grow calmer. Rather he got more and more furious the longer he tried to figure out what to do.

He growled low in his throat and genuinely considered getting drunk all alone. He couldn’t go back to his flat right now, unsure whether Danielle had left after their conversation. He had no idea where Louis was, only that he was being mysterious and very stammer-y lately, so Liam assumed it had something to do with Harry. That, too, made Liam angry.

So here he was, camped outside a fucking record store like some kind of stalking pervert. Liam thought he might die of anger and shame. In fact Liam thought he was actively dying just before he heard the door of the shop open.

“Liam?” he heard Zayn say, and then he was launching himself forward off the brick wall and in Zayn’s direction. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his lips pressed against Zayn’s and he was keening slightly. His hands were on Zayn’s slender hips and Liam was pulling him closer to his own aching chest.

Liam’s lips crushed into Zayn’s and he thought he might be leaving a bruise—but that idea only made him yank Zayn closer to his chest.

Liam had lost his mind.

Zayn pulled away belatedly. “Whoa, Liam, I don’t—this is new.” He drew a jagged breath and pulled away from Liam slightly. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Liam, his hands still on Zayn’s hips, dropped his forehead to the other man’s shoulder. “Danielle cheated on me.”

“What?” Zayn breathed, placing his palm on Liam’s cheek.

“We’re done.” Liam brought his eyes up to Zayn’s and gave him a pleading look.

Zayn’s breath hitched in his chest.

“Want to get out of here?”

***

“Come here,” Harry said, grabbing Louis’ hand tightly in his own.

He dragged Louis over to a spurting fountain in the small park they were walking through, and Louis marveled at how gorgeous Harry looked in the fading twilight. Harry dropped Louis’ hand and shucked off his shoes before rolling up the bottom of his trousers. As Louis watched, he clambered knee-deep into the fountain with a wild laugh.

And Louis glanced at his legs and his arms and his neck—and he wanted to mark them as his, suddenly and despite himself. Rationally he understood that Harry’s thigh was the same as any other, or generally the same. But irrationally he wanted to mark this thigh as his, wanted to leave purple-blue marks and maybe make Harry re-think his decision to commit to this thing. He wanted to leave patterns and constellations across Harry’s chest and thighs and neck. He wanted to be remembered. He wanted to be admired.

Instead all he said was, “You’re beautiful.”

And for that he earned a “You’ve even more beautiful” in response.

They blushed simultaneously.

And of course Louis couldn’t help himself after that. “Are you coming back to mine or am I going to yours?”

Harry grinned.

***

Zay and Liam nearly fell through the doorway of Zayn’s apartment once the door opened. Liam found that he couldn’t take his mouth off of Zayn’s, that he physically could not remove his mouth no matter how hard he tried.

At this point he was unsure whether this was due to anger or attraction or something else. No matter what, he knew he was hard and fucking _gagging_ for it.

“Are you okay,” Zayn asked breathlessly, phrasing it more as a statement than a question.

“Yeah, yeah, course I am,” Liam countered, feeling drunk and high and sex-crazed every time he touched Zayn at all.

“So this is okay then,” Zayn countered.

“I’ve been jacking off to the thought of you for weeks,” Liam admitted, flushing as he did so. “Wasn’t gonna tell you, but—”

“But you realized I’m aching for you,” Zayn finished, placing his lips on Liam’s jaw.

“Something.” Liam shook his head gently, then moved his lips to Zayn’s.

“But your girlfriend dumped you,” Zayn asked, a question alight in his voice.

Liam sighed and tried to catch his breath. “In my mind I was fucking your mouth even before she cheated,” he admitted, feeling embarrassed yet emboldened at the same time.

“Oh my god,” Zayn breathed, stilling himself slightly. “I’m not sure I need to know that.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I just mean it’ll be harder not to come right now. That’s all,” Zayn said, and Liam was melting into him again, kissing his lips gently.

“Oh my god,” Liam said again, placing one hand on his blushing cheeks.

“Embarrassed, are we?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll get over it.”

And there was that coolness again, the coolness that Liam so fervently envied.

“I suppose I will.” Liam pulled away and yanked his shirt off over his head. At times he was very aware of the effect his abdominal muscles could have on others, and this was one moment he wanted to milk it. Part of him wanted to make Zayn beg.

He didn’t want kind or tender, he wanted rough and sexy and stupid. He knew he was being idiotic, and he knew this was a terrible idea. But he was so filled with rage and vitriol that he was unable to care even the slightest.

Liam cupped Zayn’s crotch through his trousers and moaned lightly, playing it up a little bit. Of course he wanted to fuck Zayn, and of course he wanted revenge against Danielle—but he also wanted Zayn to know he was wanted.

He didn’t want to admit that he, himself, was furious.

“Are you going to let me fuck you or not,” Liam growled, sounding a tad more confident than he was feeling.

To be honest, he felt broken and beaten-down and pathetic. But his cock still worked, and his cock still loved Zayn, so this was how he was working through his insanity.

“You don’t know if I’m a bottom or a top,” Zayn pointed out in a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter, just let me touch you.”

Zayn kissed him insistently, pressing his palms against Liam’s collarbones. 

“So this would have happened anyway then.”

Liam pulled away. “I’m not a cheater, Zayn.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Not what I meant, but okay.”

Liam growled in frustration again, trying to pretend he wasn’t fully hard and extremely upset. “Do you want me to tell you that I’ve literally dreamt about this? Because I can.”

Zayn stilled at this statement. Liam met his gaze, radiating sincerity even as quiet rage ticked inside him. He was moving past embarrassment and straight into sex-god mode, and he knew that was why he and Danielle had worked for so long. The sex had been fantastic.

Normal, not-horny Liam was sensible and sensitive and easy to fluster. Liam when hot was rough and selfish and messy. And furious, extremely-horny Liam had just stuck his hand down Zayn’s trousers.

“This is happening,” Zayn muttered, kicking off his shoes.

“Yes.” Liam yanked at the hem of Zayn’s shirt, trying to tug it off.

“And you’re cool with it?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Wow. You’re kind of a dick when you’re hard.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Fuck no,” Zayn whispered, returning his lips to Liam’s.

Liam knew Zayn was going to hate him in the morning. A very big part of him didn’t care.

***  
“You don’t want to go in?” Louis asked, teasing as he tried to pull Harry closer to the neon light.

“No, I gave up strip clubs for Lent,” Harry replied, trying to pull Louis backwards. “Also boobs.”

“Boobs can be fun!” Louis insisted, no longer trying to pull Harry closer to debauchery. Harry shot him an incredulous look. “What? I’ve dated girls, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” Harry replied as they began to walk hand-in-hand. “I get sort of a super-gay vibe from you.”

Louis snorted. “It’s sort of and 80-20 split, I guess. Or 90-10. Fuck, I don’t know.”

“That’s fine. Maths were never my strong suit, anyway.”

They continued walking in companionable silence until Louis pointed to his building with a flourish. “This is me.”

“It looks nice.”

“You haven’t even gone inside to see it yet,” Louis said with a laugh.

“I sense it’s adorable and very tidy.”

“The parts of the flat that Liam touches are tidy. My parts are not so tidy.”

“Who needs tidy?” Harry asked, pulling Louis closer to his own flat. 

“Are you sure you’re not a figment of my imagination? Because I could totally be making you up right now.” If Louis were to make anyone up, it would certainly be someone like Harry.

“I’m still here. And the only place I’m going is up to yours.”

***

“Don’t fucking pity me,” Liam said, voice low and deep in Zayn’s ear.

Zayn laughed bitterly. “Don’t worry, I don’t. I pity her for being dumb enough to lose you.” His mouth found Liam’s neck and he bit down.

“I can’t stand being pitied.”

“Would you prefer if I prostrated myself at the glory of your abs, then?”

“No. I don’t much like being adored.”

“Liar.”

Liam smiled and grasped Zayn’s hips in a fierce grip. Zayn was most certainly leaving bruises on his neck, and he intended to follow suit. He squeezed again and Zayn gasped. Liam seized his chance and shoved his mouth onto Zayn’s.

Then Zayn’s hands were on Liam’s trousers, trying to unbutton them without moving his face away from their kiss. “Take them off,” he mumbled to Liam. “Right now.”

“Get a little bossy when you’re hot, do you?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.” Liam grinned and shucked off his jeans. “Yours too.”

And then they were both standing in the entranceway to Zayn’s flat, chests heaving and breath not coming quickly enough, just wearing boxers. And then Liam shoved Zayn’s shoulders roughly, slamming him into the wall, forcing another bruising kiss on him.

Part of him wondered if he was trying to make himself feel better by making someone else feel bad. He gripped Zayn’s elbow fiercely, once again wanting to leave finger-marks on someone else’s skin. “Top or bottom?” Liam growled. Growling was becoming his main form of communication.

“Guess.”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ, Liam. This really is a new side to you.” Zayn gasped as Liam shoved his fingers harder in his hips. “Versatile, if you must know.”

“It’s important.” Liam bit harshly into Zayn’s shoulder. “Do you have—”

“Of course.” Zayn grabbed Liam’s hands and shoved them down to his own sides. “Be right back.” He left the entranceway and Liam was left alone. Furious. He was furious, and nothing was helping.

Well. Maybe Zayn was helping a little, he amended as he watched Zayn swing his way back towards him. His hips were bone-thin and fucking hot. Liam could already see bruises forming, and they made his mouth water.

“I can—” he began, only to be interrupted by Zayn’s voice.

“See my cock? Yeah, I can see yours too, lover.” He smiled and stalked closer. He looked positively predatory, which caught Liam off-guard. Though he was typically the sensible one, he was still used to being the sexual aggressor. Maybe fucking guys was going to be even more exciting than he’d thought.

Zayn finally reached Liam and grabbed his hands, leading them both to the sofa behind him. Liam once again shoved his hands onto Zayn, inside his boxers and onto his cock. “Holy shit,” Liam murmured.

“Yes. I know. Come here.” Zayn pulled him into a light kiss, which Liam altered by dropping to his knees and yanking down Zayn’s boxers. Zayn gaspsed. “Have—I mean, have you done this before?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’ll let you know,” Zayn sighed, running his hand through Liam’s short, bristly hair. Liam grinned, nuzzling Zayn’s dick gently. This would be both weird and exceedingly hot, Liam thought.

He took Zayn’s length lightly into his mouth, just past the curve of his lips. Then he smiled around it, enjoying the sound of Zayn gasping slightly. He moved his hand to the base of Zayn’s cock, realizing he may need to start slowly, given his beginner status.

But he could feign all the confidence he needed to. And he would.

He took Zayn as deeply into his mouth and throat as he could without gagging, then moved back and forth wildly and with abandon. His eyes drifted up to look at Zayn’s face, and he was gratified to see that the latter was practically paralytic with pleasure.

He could do this and he would enjoy it.

Before he even uttered that thought to himself, he realized he _was_ enjoying himself, if his hard dick had anything to say about it. And he was mostly thinking with his dick at this point.

Liam reached one hand to Zayn’s thigh and gripped it hard, anchoring himself slightly. He gagged a bit as he tried to take more of Zayn into his mouth. Perhaps he was out of his league. These thoughts scattered as he heard Zayn moan. He worked his hand up and down Zayn’s rigid cock.

“I have lube over—” Zayn began before groaning again. He threw his arm sideways, pointing wildly. Liam gathered his courage and spit onto Zayn’s cock.

“Oh my god.”

Liam stilled.

“I, I don’t think anyone’s ever spat on me before.”

“You’re so unfortunate,” Liam said, smirking.

“No really.”

“Oh.” Liam paused. “In that case.” He gathered himself and spat liberally onto Zayn’s erection, moving his hand to collect the liquid and Zayn’s cock all at the same time.

“Oh fuck.”

Liam was gratified, but he refused to admit it. He let himself gag again. Spit coated Zayn’s dick, making it slicker and easier to manage in Liam’s mouth. He tried to pay attention to what Zayn liked, or what he himself would like to be on the receiving end of. It took him a moment to realize he was also enjoying _this._ He was enjoying hearing Zayn pant and stutter and run his fingers through Liam’s short hair.

Zayn suddenly yanked a tuft and Liam groaned. He continued working his mouth and hand until Zayn was essentially rutting against him.

Liam moved his other hand to his own boxers, freeing his cock from the constraining fabric. He stroked himself slowly, having a difficult time focusing on too many things at once. He turned his attention back to Zayn.

He deliberately licked the head of Zayn’s cock, eliciting another moan. “Nearly,” Zayn muttered, so Liam sucked down harder as Zayn tightened his grip on Liam’s hair. Zayn came and Liam swallowed it down sloppily, wiping the back of his hand across his lips.

“Holy shit. I’m definitely gonna let you fuck me.”

“I kind of figured you would,” Liam said wolfishly. If he did something, well, he didn’t go in half-heartedly. He gave everything his all.

“Hey! It’s not _that_ easy to get into my pants!” Zayn said, trying to catch his breath.

“Only cuz your trousers are so damn tight.”

“You noticed?”

“Of _course_ I noticed, you prat. I’ve been having a big gay panic over fancying my mate.”

“I’d say it’s the first time I turned someone, but honestly it’s not.”

“You didn’t _turn_ me, I was always like this.”

“Always a cock-hound?” Zayn teased. “Okay. But you’ve never done this.”

“No. But I understand how.”

“Clearly.” Zayn sighed. “I feel deeply special.”

“I don’t. I’m kneeling on your rug with a raging hard-on and you’re doing nothing about it.”

“Oh, fuck. Stand up, I have a perfectly nice bed right through here—” Zayn yanked Liam to his feet and pulled him into a side room. Liam didn’t even register what the room looked like because Zayn shoved him onto the bed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with you.” Zayn moved to kneel on top of Liam, looming in his face.

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Zayn ducked his head to Liam’s neck and bit down hard. Liam hissed and shifted his hips, wanting friction and heat and _more_. Zayn moved off of him and opened a side-table drawer, rummaging momentarily before extricating lube and a condom.

“You are gonna be wrecked tomorrow,” Zayn said, poking a finger into a new bruise on Liam’s neck.

“Good.”

Zayn opened the bottle and coated his finger with the lube he’d poured out. Liam’s eyes went wide. “Do you want to do it or do you want me to?” Zayn asked, sensing Liam’s moment of pause. He nodded. “I’ll show you how this time,” he offered, “and you can open me up next time.”

Next time. Liam wasn’t sure he was even going to survive this time. His brain was going to seep out of his cock, he knew it.

“It’s a little awkward to do it to yourself, but whatever. Manageable.”

Zayn slipped into a more comfortable position, lying on his back with his legs bent up and spread out. He eased one finger into himself with practiced skill, pumping slowly in and out. He added a second finger and moved them in and out, up to his bottom knuckle. Then he widened his fingers, stretching himself open slightly.

Liam was transfixed, amazed that this was happening. He inelegantly ripped open a condom wrapper with his teeth and slipped the rubber on himself. He then coated it in lube. He was painfully hard.

“Are you secretly a porn star?” Liam asked, breathlessly.

Zayn laughed. “No. Why do you ask?” His voice was wrecked—probably from all those fucking cigarettes—and it was _hot._

“If you could see yourself right now, you wouldn’t be asking me that question.”

“You are aware how well-hung you are, right?”

“I—yes.” Liam flushed. “Is that—are you…”

“Stop looking so conflicted. You’re not going to hurt me.” Zayn moved his fingers out of himself and nodded. “Okay. Start slowly. I’m not actually a porn star, so you’ll need to practice a little restraint at first.”

Liam grinned at him lazily. He took a deep breath and expelled it raggedly. Then he moved to a kneeling position between Zayn’s legs, placing a hand on Zayn’s thigh. He pressed forward and entered him with a sigh, a feeling of relief.

“You good?” Liam whispered in Zayn’s upturned ear.

“Yes.” Zayn hooked his ankles together behind Liam’s back. He smiled up at Liam. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“You’re so good-looking it’s actively pissing me off. Fucking hell.”

“Have you taken a look at yourself lately? Also shut up.”

“Sorry. I’ll let you concentrate.”

Liam expelled a breath at that, shoving into Zayn harshly, trying to make him hiss. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath that sent an electric shock up his spine. He evened out his pace then, languidly thrusting forward. He lowered his head and bit into Zayn’s neck.

“Fuck,” Zayn whispered again, hitching his hips closer to Liam’s. He grasped onto Liam’s ass and squeezed. Then he yanked Liam bodily forward and pumped their bodies together. Liam felt his blood fizz and he shoved his hips harder.

The sounds he and Zayn were making were, he realized belatedly, utterly obscene. Their skin was slapping together and they were each gasping. Liam continued pumping with hectic desperation, enjoying the sound of Zayn’s breath caught in his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Liam moaned against Zayn’s neck.

“What?”

“If you’re hard again.”

“When am I not?” Zayn replied with a breathless chuckle.

Liam sped up, practically rutting against Zayn, chest hot and painful with need. “Shit.”

“I—fuck—love it when you curse, filthy mouth.” Zayn scratched Liam’s back, his speech stuttering to a halt. “Faster, _please.”_

Liam could feel sweat beading at his temple, but he ignored it in favor of looking at Zayn’s eyelashes. Fuck, he had the eyes, eyelashes, and cheekbones of a fucking model _whch he fucking was._

And he was mad about Liam being fit? Not fair.

“How much faster?”

“As fast as you can manage.”

Liam could manage fast, of course he could, he had never reformed from his college-athlete ways. Even so his biceps were burning as he held himself aloft, staring at Zayn’s beautiful, infuriating face. They were going to ruin each other.

Zayn came without warning, spattering his chest and hand with viscous fluid. Liam continued to shove his way into Zayn for a few more moments, barely managing to sustain himself as he felt Zayn’s muscles tighten around his own length.

Together they shuddered and stilled and tried to regain the ability to speak. Liam pitched himself sideways with a chuckle.

“Holy shit,” Zayn said, still short of breath.

“Holy shit indeed.”

They collectively caught their breath and silently stared at the ceiling.

“But, like,” Liam began, once he was again able to speak. “Holy shit.”

“Me fucking too. Believe me.”

They lay against one another silently until Zayn stood up to retrieve flannels, so they could clean one another off. After which, Liam was glad, they fell into a comfortable and quiet slumber.

\--

 

Liam’s phone buzzed, waking him from his not-deep sleep. Naturally, he’d received a text from Danielle. He ignored it. 

Then he received more, and he found them harder to ignore.

_where are you?_

and

_please I need to find you_

and

_I am so sorry I need you_

but most importantly

_we need to talk_

She called three times and texted incessantly before he groaned, annoyed at the incessant vibrations by his head. He scrolled through to his messages, a sense of panic rising in his chest.

_where are you? I’ll drive to wherever you are, please_

_Louis doesn’t know where you are either, you’re not in the apartment_

_I need to know where you are_

Danielle was a lot of things, but crazy wasn’t one of them. Liam thought something had to be really and truly wrong for her to contact him.

He shimmied into his jeans and looked guilty at Zayn, who was still sleeping. He looked sleepy and gorgeous, and Liam hated himself for what he was about to do. He hated himself for what he had already done, really. And he couldn’t just leave—he wasn’t that kind of person, really, even if he did revenge-fuck a model just because he was furious at his ex. So he decided to leave a note.

He sent Danielle a message telling her the intersection Zayn lived on, then went searching for paper and a pen. He felt nosey rummaging through Zayn’s belongings but he couldn’t wake him up and say his ex was flipping out. No way.

So he wrote an apologetic note saying he had a small emergency to contend with and he placed it on the pillow beside Zayn.

He left the building and sat on a bench at the corner, no longer as angry as he had been. He was no longer vibrating with fury, at least. But his anger was still very, very real. Danielle’s car pulled up within moments and she parked erratically before jumping out.

“What the fuck, Danielle—” he began, standing up as she approached him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ve been up all night crying and driving around and trying to find you. I’m just so sorry, and I want to fix this, just tell me what to say or do. I didn’t meant to do what I did, I want to try again. I’ll do anything. I’m just—” She stopped and stared hard at his neck. Liam knew she was eye-level with the numerous bruises and bite-marks all over his jaw and neck. He flushed and closed his eyes.

“Oh. Um.” She took a shuddering breath and Liam heard the front door of Zayn’s building open and close.

“Liam, what the fuck. You fucked off pretty sharpish, I heard you leave.” Zayn stomped closer to them. “A note, really? If you’re having a crisis, you should at least have…” His footsteps stilled. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Liam said, opening his eyes.

“Did you do this to him?” Danielle asked, gesturing to his neck.

“Does it matter?” Liam asked.

“We broke up less than _twelve_ hours ago!”

“So fucking what?”

“I’m gonna go…” Zayn said, trailing off.

“You live here. I’m leaving. I thought you were dying or something, Danielle, that’s why I responded. But if it’s just some bullshit about you being sorry, you can save it.”

“But just look how badly he hurt you!” She gestured to his neck.

“No. That’d be you.” He turned and walked away. “Don’t follow me, Danielle.”

Regardless, Liam head footsteps behind him as he walked away from Zayn’s building. “It’s just me,” Zayn called when Liam’s shoulders tensed. “She did a number on you, didn’t she?”

“She laid a fucking guilt trip on me about her cheating in the first place.” He continued walking, head down. “Made it clear it was my fault somehow, not being emotionally available or something. But I didn’t think she’d pull this.”

“What was this?”

“She wants to get back together.”

“What? Why?”

Liam stopped and turned to stare at him.

“I don’t mean _why_ why, because you’re a genuinely good person and fit to boot, but if she felt that way, why would she want to get back together with you?”

“Psychotic rage? Glutton for punishment? Because she wants to see me suffer?”

“Or because she genuinely thinks she made a mistake?” Zayn offered quietly.

“I don’t care.”

“I know you’re hurt, I get that.”

“There’s more to the story.”

“Oh.”

“She’s—no, she _was_ pregnant. She got it taken care of two weeks ago cuz she didn’t know whose it was.” Liam snorted. “Apparently her guilt-ridden one-night stand coincided with us having sex too and she just didn’t know who.”

“Fuck.”

“And she told me this last night. Apparently the guilt was too much.”

There was a long silence.

“You’re painting her like quite a villain.”

“Maybe because she fucking is.”

Liam resumed walking.

“Which part are you mad about?” Zayn kept up with Liam’s pace but stayed half a step behind him.

“All of it. Mostly that she kept it a fucking secret. I could maybe have handled it if she’d…I don’t know. She should have known me better than to address it like this. And she didn’t.” They walked in silence for many, many minutes, until they reached Liam’s flat. “Do you want to come in?”

Zayn shrugged, looking at the ground.

“I can’t promise I’ll be entertaining, but—”

“I can hang out with Louis if you ditch me. I should probably stick around for now, you know?”

Liam’s face flushed in silent appreciation. “Thanks.”

“Let’s get so day-drunk we forget our own names, shall we?”


	5. Faveourite Worst Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get proper wasted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit fluffier than the last. Just the lads goofing off and being ridiculous. Hope you enjoy! xx

“Oi, my full name is not Harrington!” Harry called with a laugh as Louis led him up the stairs of his flat.

“Is it Harold then? Or Harrod’s? Like the shop? Or Harriet, maybe. I’m not here to judge.”

“No, Lou, it’s just Harry.”

“That’s rather bland.”

“Sorry we can’t all have been inspired by the French.”

“I forgive you.” Louis unlocked his front door. “So this is my place.” He ushered Harry in with a gesture, trying not to show his mild discomfort. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. Whatever you’re having.” Harry followed him into the kitchen. “Do you like to swim?”

“Um. I don’t dislike it, but I’m not a competitive swimmer or anything. Why?”

“Taking the kids on a swimming expedition next week. Thought you might want to come along if you’re free.”

Louis felt his face flush slightly as he reached for a bottle of wine. “Sure. If I’m not working, yeah.” He grabbed two glasses—mercifully clean, thanks to Liam—and poured them each some wine. “Um. Do you want to watch a movie?” he asked as he turned to hand a glass to Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, running a hand through his hair. “But I need to do something first.” He glided forward slowly until he was flush with Louis. Removing one of the glasses from Louis’ hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to Louis’ lips. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime.” Louis bit his bottom lip and tried not to smile too brightly.

Harry’s lips quirked up into a smile at this, walking back into the living room.

Louis’ phone buzzed as he followed Harry. Taking it out of his pocket to read the incoming message, he frowned.

“Something wrong?”

“Just Danielle asking if I know where Liam is.”

“Do you?”

“I figured he’d be with her. Hold on.” He walked out of the living room and knocked on Liam’s door. He got no response, so he peeked his head inside. Finding no one, he returned to where Harry sat on the sofa. “Nope. Apparently I don’t.” He quickly typed back a response.

“She can’t find him?” Harry asked, brows furrowing.

“She said she can’t, no,” Louis said as Danielle sent him another response. “She’s freaking out, apparently.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea.” Louis and Harry looked at one another, panic settling into their bones. “Hold on.” He dialed Danielle and placed the phone to his ear before sitting down next to Harry.

“Louis?” she sobbed into the receiver. “So he’s not there either? Fuck, I need to talk to him.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We broke up, but I need to find him, it was a mistake, Louis, I need to get ahold of him but he won’t answer my calls or messages. I’m so worried about him, I just don’t know what to do.”

“What?” Louis asked, shocked beyond words. He covered the mouthpiece and said, “Danielle and Liam broke up and now she can’t find him.”

“Why?” Harry asked, moving closer to Louis.

“I don’t know.” He returned his attention to Danielle’s voice. “Okay, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

“We were at your apartment a few hours ago and, well, he stormed out and I can’t find him. I’ve been driving around for an hour and trying to call him but he won’t pick up.”

“But what happened, Danielle? If it’s something bad he might just need some time to cool off or clear his head.”

“No, something bad is going to happen, he’s so mad at me. I know he’s not thinking straight, I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“Why?”

Danielle took a shuddering breath. “I. Well, I cheated on him.”

Louis paused. “I’ve got to go, Danielle. I’m gonna try to find him. I’ll let you know once I do.”

“No, Louis, wait. Just—I know something bad is going to happen. Please try to find him fast.”

Louis hung up.

“They broke up?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathed. “She cheated on him, he flipped out, and now she can’t find him.”

“Where do you think he went?”

“I have an idea.”

Harry nodded. “Zayn?”

“Absolutely.”

“Think we should go looking for him?”

“I’m not sure where Zayn lives, to be honest.” Louis flicked his fringe to the side before shaking his head. “It’s so rare for Liam to have drama. And damn if it doesn’t come at the worst times.”

Harry snorted a little. “Let’s try calling them before we panic.”

Louis and Harry called both Liam and Zayn, leaving them succinct messages to call them back as soon as possible, neither one specifying why. Louis then texted each of them saying the same.

“Should we send out a search party? I mean Liam doesn’t really seem the sort to jump off a bridge or something, but I don’t know him very well.”

“No. To be honest, even angry Liam is pretty sensible. The worst thing he’d do would be to lie down on the floor and mope.”

“But he’s not doing that.” Harry stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, looking increasingly concerned.

“I might have instigated him going to wallow at Zayn’s, though. I mentioned that we both thought they had a lot of chemistry and he admitted he’d been having a bicurious panic over Zayn’s stupidly beautiful self.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Obviously.” He looked at his phone. “Niall probably knows where he lives. Do you think we need to rescue him?”

“Not particularly. It’s only just after midnight. Danielle said they had their fight a few hours ago. And Zayn’s a good guy, I think. I mean I’ve known him for like a year and he’s never murdered anyone as far as I know.” Louis stared down at the wine glass in his hand.

“You’re really worried about him, though.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t really handle breakups that well, and this seems like it was a shit-storm. Danielle was sobbing at me.”

“Okay. Let me ask Niall if he’s seen Zayn tonight.”

Louis watched as Harry typed a message into his phone. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until his own phone buzzed. 

_He’s fine. I dragged him to mine. He’s more than a bit upset_

Louis quickly typed in a response. _should I come get him? He can’t be handling this well_

_Not yet._

_Please, please keep me updated._

“Zayn has him.” Louis sent Danielle a message that Liam was all right and to give him some time.

“Oh thank god,” Harry breathed, setting his phone down. Then he picked up the wine glass and chugged its contents.

***  
Liam unlocked the door to his flat and rolled his eyes at the spectacle before him. Louis and Harry were snuggled into one another in the corner of the living-room sofa, two empty glasses and a bottle of wine propped up before them. The telly was playing an endless loop of the menu screen of some DVD, which Liam promptly clicked off.

Louis stirred a bit as Liam and Zayn walked further into the flat. Then he bolted upright, pulling Liam into a fierce hug. “Fuck, man, we were so worried about you.”

Liam shrugged, pulling out of Louis’ embrace.

“Danielle was sobbing at me, she seemed to think you were gonna commit hari-kari. I know you were too sensible for that, but fuck, dude.”

Zayn quietly sat down beside Harry, who shifted sideways in his sleep, moving his head to Zayn’s lap.

“I’m fine. Well. No. But I’m alive.”

“Yeah, I only found that out because Zayn responded to my fucking message, you ass.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know.” Louis sighed, sitting in the armchair. “Do you want to talk about—”

“No.” Liam shook his head and sat down next to Zayn.

“I told him we should get day-drunk,” Zayn pointed out, rubbing Liam’s bicep with one hand. “Like, so day-drunk he forgets how to talk.”

“Okay.” Louis nodded. “It’s only eight am, but sure.”

“Your boyfriend’s head is in Zayn’s lap, by the way,” Liam pointed out.

“I know you’re in pain, but hush with the bullshit. And don’t pretend I don’t see the bruises on your neck.” Louis stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Liam’s cheeks turned pink, but he resolutely stared at the floor.

“Thanks,” he murmured to Zayn. “Sorry.”

“Quit it with the unnecessary apologies. I want to see if we can get you to wear a lampshade on your head.”

Harry shifted and stretched. “Morning, Zayn. Sorry I’m so close to your penis. I don’t remember that being there when I fell asleep.” He sat up dazedly. “Liam. I’m glad to see you.”

“You too.” Liam actually was glad to see Harry, even if he was currently unable to act like it.

“Even better to see that marvelous collection of hickeys. Good on you, mate.”

“Oh cock,” Zayn muttered under his breath. “Leave it be, yeah?”

“Okay. Where’s Louis?”

“Breaking into his emergency vodka stash. We’re getting wasted,” Liam said.

“Cool. I’ll make screwdrivers and scrambled eggs, considering it’s the ungodly hour of eight in the morning.” Harry stood up and left the living room.

“Were they on a date?” Zayn whispered.

“I guess so.” Liam shrugged.

“Hey Zayn, will you text Niall and invite him over? He’ll want a status update on this beastly situation!” Harry called as they heard bottles clinking together from the kitchen.

“Sure!” Zayn pulled his phone from his pocket. “Is there a civilized way to tell someone you’re gonna get white-girl-wasted with three other dudes before noon?”

Liam snorted. “No.”

“Crap, how much vodka is in your emergency stash?” Harry said, struggling to carry three full bottles back into the living room.

“You’ve met Louis, right? He doesn’t do anything half-assed. His numerous hysterics always require vodka,” Liam said as Harry handed him vodka. He opened the cap and drank straight from the lip of the bottle, then he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I heard that, ass. Good thing I love your dumb face, even when it’s all sad-looking and stricken.” Louis came into the living room with a stack of cups, a half-filled bottle of orange juice, and a liter of soda.

“Niall said he’d come. Also I think he’s angry with me for waking him up,” Zayn supplied, placing is phone back in his pocket.

“That lad’s never actually angry, just mildly grumpy,” Harry countered. “So how’d you two spend your night?” he added, feigning innocence.

“How did you?” Liam snapped, taking another sip of warm vodka.

“Don’t snap at him,” Louis responded immediately.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Liam said, repentant. He looked over at Harry with a pleading gaze.

“I know you are.” Harry shrugged and grabbed a glass to make himself a screwdriver. “Would you like some ice for your vodka?”

“No thank you.” Liam looked confused.

“Okay. I’m going to make everyone some eggs. Be back.” He darted back into the kitchen.

Liam whispered to Louis, “Are you sure he’s a real person? Not a cartoon character?”

“I don’t even know. I think cartoon birds teased his hair into a quiff this morning, if I’m being totally honest with you.” Louis handed Liam a glass. “Do you want to do something besides sit there and nurse that warm bottle of liquor, Liam?”

“Like what?”

“Drinking game?” Zayn suggested. “Pretend to be back in college or something?”

“Harry and I are still in uni, so that seems fitting I guess,” Liam agreed.

“Never have I ever always gets me proper wasted,” Louis said. “I’ve clearly done too much.”

They filled glasses lazily and called for Harry to come join them. He entered the room carrying four plates, two on each arm.

“Did you make a full English breakfast?” Louis asked, standing to help him deliver food.

“No. You guys don’t have any beans.” Harry sat down on the floor beside the coffee table, then took a swig of his drink.

They heard a knock at the door and a voice calling, “I was promised vodka and food, now let me in.” Louis opened the door to let Niall in. “Mate you look like shit,” Niall practically shouted at Liam.

“I feel like it, too,” he said, nursing his glass of straight vodka. “Liquor is my best friend,” he added, swirling his cup.

“I resent that,” Louis responded, offering Niall a glass. “We’re getting proper shitfaced on what should otherwise be a quiet Sunday morning thanks to you.”

“Sorry.” Liam shrugged.

“Don’t be sorry, just stop being a twat,” Louis suggested.

“Niall, there’s a bunch of food still in the kitchen. Plate by the stove,” Harry said. “We’re gonna play a drinking game and I want to learn everyone’s dirty secrets.”

The five of them settled back down in various spots around the living room, Niall putting on music before he sat down to eat.

“I’ve never…gotten road head,” Harry started off.

Louis snorted. “That surprises me.” Louis, Zayn, and Niall all took a sip of their drinks.

“I’ve never smoked a cigarette,” Liam said, as he was next after Harry. Zayn and Harry and Louis drank after that statement.

“I’m horrible at this game. I’ve done a lot of shit, okay?” Louis warned them before saying, “Never have I ever had a brother.”

Niall groaned when he realized he was the only one drinking. “Fine. You guys suck. Actually, you know what, yes. I’ve never sucked off a guy. HA.”

There was a long pause before Zayn, Harry, Louis, and Liam all raised their glasses to their lips.

“I _knew it,”_ Louis cried triumphantly, poking at a bruise on Liam’s neck.

“Shove off,” Liam said, brushing Louis’ hand off him.

“You two hooked up,” Louis said in a sing-song voice. “Liam’s swearing off girls!”

“Obviously I’m swearing off girls,” Liam said, mouth quirked up on one side despite it himself.

“This some misogynistic bullshit? Some girl broke your heard and now you hate all women?” Louis replied, knowing how to poke Liam just enough to make him smile.

“No. I hate everyone.”

Louis saw Zayn’s face blanche, so he said, “Drama queen. You’ll be fine.” He gave Zayn a tight smile.

“Never have I ever met a celebrity,” Zayn supplied, shrugging apologetically. “I’ve done a lot of shit too.”

The game was put on pause for a moment while Niall regaled them with a story about the time he met Katy Perry and thought she was the coolest person in the world and went on and on about how sweet and pretty she was. He also happened to note that he wanted to marry her someday, which Louis cackled about until Niall threw a pillow at him.

“Jealous?” Niall asked, sticking his tongue out.

“Not half,” Louis retorted. “I’ve never…gone skinny-dipping.”

“I wish I’d known, I’d have made you do it last night!” Harry said with a laugh. He and the other three drank. “Never have I ever wanked over a girl,” Harry supplied, eyes bright.

“Well yeah, you’re gay,” Zayn said. He drank, as did Liam, Louis, and Niall.

“I think we’re all a little bit gay,” Liam retorted, laughing as he sipped his drink.

“Oi, mate, I’m not. I don’t think,” Niall added lamely. “Is that something you’re born knowing about yourself?”

“No,” said Zayn and Liam.

“Yes,” said Louis and Harry.

“Thanks, mates. That was very enlightening.” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Do you want us to explain sexual orientation, the fluidity of attraction, and gender identification with you, my dear Niall? It will be deeply educational. I even can demonstrate some things on a banana for you,” Louis offered.

“No!” Liam yelled, covering his eyes quickly as Harry simultaneously squawked.

“What things?” Harry said next, intrigue plain on his face

“Some things. Tongue things, maybe.”

“Throat things?” Niall asked, head quirking to the side.

“Niall!” Liam pleaded. “Don’t indulge him.”

“Never have I ever deep-throated a banana,” Zayn said next. Louis drank boldly while Harry toppled over with a loud cackle.

“You lot are ruining me,” Liam whispered.

“Give up the control issues, mate. It’s pointless,” Niall called, sounding both content and tipsy. “Just keep drinking.”

“I only have one kidney!” Liam countered, throwing his arms in the air.

“First of all, no, you don’t,” Louis pointed out. “You have two and the one’s just a fucker. Second of all, stop using that as an excuse not to get blind-drunk.”

“Oh Christ.” Liam covered his eyes with one arm. “If I get blind-drunk my hangover lasts three days longer than any of yours’ would.”

“Christ indeed,” Zayn countered, shoving his palm onto Liam’s thigh.

“I hate you all,” Liam sighed.

“On a scale of one to ten, where one is getting laid and ten is the Holocaust, how much do you actually hate us?” Louis countered, taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied grin.

“Holocaust. This is Hitler-Stalin-Pol Pot shit, right here. I mean it,” Liam replied dejectedly.

“Liar.” Harry smirked a bit. “You look a little less like the little matchstick girl right now, at least. Or a Dickensian ghost.”

“Or Havisham,” Zayn supplied. “With the wedding dress?”

“You guys are making me feel dumb,” Liam moaned.

“I’m a history student, and you study—what, maths? We’re star-crossed, we are, mate,” Harry consoled him. “We’re not meant to be. Quadratic equations make me cry.”

“I’m studying aeronautical engineering,” Liam pointed out.

“If it involves numbers above 100, count me out.” Harry sighed and took a sip of his drink.

“Thanks, I guess.” But Liam reckoned he was beginning to feel better.

“I’ve never had sex in the bed of a pickup-truck,” Louis said next, though it was obviously not his turn.

“It was one time!” Liam cried, taking a drink as Niall did.

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” Niall said next, looking unsurprised as the four others drank.

“I’ve never got in a bar-fight,” Liam said, giving Louis a pointed look.

“Anyone would be idiotic to fight you. You’ve got biceps for days,” Harry pointed out as Niall and Louis drank.

“I’m naturally docile, that’s all.” Liam shrugged.

“Liar,” Zayn said with a loud, barking laugh. “Docile. Honestly.”

“Never have I ever set a hotel’s carpark on fire,” Harry said, throwing Niall a look.

“Christ, mate, I told you it was an accident!” Niall shouted, taking a large swallow of his drink.

“Okay, that deserves a re-telling too,” Louis requested, so Niall launched into another story of his debauched college life as Zayn extracted a glass piece from his pocket. Lighting it, he took a drag and exhaled slowly before passing it to Liam. Liam set down his glass and took one hit, then two, then a third. He hoped to get obliterated.

He passed the piece on and they listened intently to Niall’s story.

“I’ve never fucked one of my professors,” Niall retaliated, eyeing Harry. Harry, Zayn, and Louis all drank as Liam’s jaw dropped.

Their game quickly degenerated into smoking-pot-and-telling-dirty-stories, which Liam was fine with. He knew for a fact that Louis had endless stories of idiotic goings-on, and he suspected Niall did too. So he sat back and cradled his drink in his fist, periodically sipping and smiling wanly.

Harry played his gay card again, saying, “I’ve never dated a girl.” The four remaining men drank, rolling their eyes collectively at him. They drank.

“Boring,” Liam said, sighing. “Never have I ever cheated on someone I was dating.”

“Liam,” Louis hissed. The other boys simply stared at him.

“What? It’s true.”

“So that’s what happened, then?” Niall asked quietly. “That’s why I got an alarming number of messages asking for Zayn’s address and whether or not I’d seen you?”

Liam flushed slightly. “Yeah.”

“Is it also why you’ve got seven prominent bruises on your visible surfaces?” Niall said next, in a weirdly conversational tone.

Zayn laughed. “No, that’s cuz I have absolutely no idea how to make someone feel better and instead just seem to inflict pain.”

“Ah, romance,” Harry put in, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, we stored up all our romantic predilections trying to get you two to date,” Zayn said, swiveling his gaze from Harry to Louis and back again.

“We can take care of ourselves, you know,” Louis said, but he smiled slightly.

“Yeah, at a turtle’s pace!” Zayn countered.

“Liam might have told me where to take you for dinner last night,” Harry added, shrugging at Louis. “If you need me to ghost-write any love notes for you, mate, let me know.”

“I’m not actually illiterate, you know, just because I haven’t read Dickens,” Liam pointed out.

“I didn’t imply you were illiterate, jackass. But all of your text-messages to me have an unnecessary number of letters in various words.” Harry rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

“That’s for _emphasis,”_ Liam said, not actually offended.

“Lou’s name does not need to have seven U’s after it. Anything above three is unnecessary,” Harry countered.

“Whatever.” Liam pouted slightly, gratified when Zayn reached over and squeezed his thigh.


	6. Madhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys continue the party. Zayn and Louis have a heart-to-heart, Liam is a sex god, Harry cooks a lot, and Niall tries to understand the gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I'm making steady progress with this, so I hope you're enjoying it. Comments and criticism are very appreciated. Love and blowjobs xx

“You can smoke inside, if you want,” Louis said, exiting his flat to stand on the sort-of-balcony sort-of-patio outside one of their kitchen windows.

“I just needed a bit of fresh air,” Zayn said, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“Okay.” Louis stilled himself slightly, collecting his thoughts. He was unsure how to proceed. He really only knew Zayn in a very specific environment and a specific set of circumstances. This was uncharted territory. “Thank you, by the way.”

Zayn nodded, not responding.

“He’s not nearly as broken as he would have been without you there.”

Zayn snorted. “You should have seen him last night. I thought he was going to rip me apart, he was so upset.”

“Looks a bit like he did rip you apart, though.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“This gonna be a regularly occurring thing, then?”

Zayn exhaled. “I honestly have no idea,” he admitted. 

Louis thought he heard hurt in that statement—or something like hurt. He thought maybe Liam had managed to bend something inside Zayn unexpectedly. Then he thought maybe Zayn was just as confused as the rest of them.

“Sometimes he needs things explained to him. He doesn’t do well with cryptic. If you like him, you have to let him know. He’ll assume it was a pity-fuck and backtrack like hell.” Louis tried to phrase his words as delicately as possible, but wasn’t sure he had managed to do so.

“Why? So I can be his rebound? His walk on the wild side?”

“If that’s how you think of him, you’re not as intelligent as I thought you were.”

Zayn snorted, stubbing out his cigarette and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“He went to _you_ when he needed someone, okay? Loyalty’s a big thing to him, and he’ll help out anyone in a jam, but he doesn’t ask for help. Ever. And he went to you anyway.”

“Can’t figure I helped much.”

“Normally he’d be catatonic right now, lying on the floor, refusing to eat anything, talking about joining a monastery. You did something right, okay?”

“Sure. If you say so.”

“He likes you. Like, a lot. He was proper nervous about going to the club last week. I thought he might be sick in his own shoes, actually. Only later did I realize it was about you.”

“Oh,” Zayn breathed.

“So the only way you could fuck it up is by not actually taking him seriously. Or by not talking to him about it.”

“It just came out of nowhere, okay? I thought he was straight until last night, so my pointless pining is maybe now not so pointless. I have no idea how to deal with that.”

“Biting his jaw seems to have been pretty effective.”

“He kissed me first.”

“I kinda figured. He’s single-minded sometimes, and you’ve been on his brain a bit lately.” Louis huffed a sigh. “So figure out if you like him, because he sure as shit likes you.”

“It’s not a matter of not liking him. It’s the fact that she shredded him and I can’t get into something with someone who’s still in love with someone else.”

Louis laughed. “Do you know how mad for you he is? We own so many records at this point it’s verging on pathetic. He loves visiting you at that damn store. And he’s loyal, like I said, so he wasn’t going to press it. Until now I guess.”

“So he fucked me just because someone else screwed up? And I’m not supposed to question that?”

“Written in the stars. Don’t question fate. And who knows, maybe he would have broken up with her anyway.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I have no fucking clue.” Louis sighed. “Can I bum a fag, please? I need to do something with my hands if we’re going to have this conversation.”

Zayn handed him the pack and his lighter. Louis lit up a cigarette and handed Zayn his belongings back.

“Cheers. Look, I’m going to be honest, I sorta liked Dannie. Didn’t love her, but she was fun and she put up with my shit. But she fucked up. And it seemed like she continued to fuck up by handling this in the worst possible manner. Ever.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I mean, I can wait until Liam tells me himself, but yeah. The fact that he’s not even considering getting back together with her? When she called me sobbing last night, saying that’s what she wanted? That’s significant.”

“I suppose.”

“Especially with his whole loyalty thing. And I like you, Zayn. I want you to stick around. Not that it’s up to me, but yeah.”

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?”

Louis grinned around the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Think I could be the next Hemingway?”

“I think you could rule the world if you set your mind to it,” Zayn responded honestly.

“I’ll start with just Britain, thank you. Maybe Ireland. If Niall’s any indication of what the Irish are like, that could be fun.”

“I think they’ve made it clear they don’t want to be ruled by the English, mate.”

“What, are you studying history too? Fuck, I hate being surrounded by stuffy academics.” Louis took a long drag on his cigarette, then smiled at Zayn. He could get used to having this guy around, he thought.

“Never went to uni after college.”

“No?”

“Couldn’t afford it. Also convinced myself I was going to write a best-selling novel and that university didn’t have shit on me.”

“I dropped out in the middle of an existential crisis, so you’ve got one up on me.”

“Fine pair we are.”

“But maybe that was fate too, though. If I weren’t teaching piano lessons, I’d’ve never met that gangly giraffe in there. And I’m rather fond of him.”

Zayn snorted. “Yes, we’ve all noticed.”

“It’s not always worth questioning things. Sometimes it’s just best to let the universe handle its shit.”

“Let the universe handle its shit? I take it back, you’re not the next Hemingway. You’re the guy in charge of writing political slogans.”

“Fuck, is that a real job, do you think? I could be great at that.”

“You are a handful, I’ll give you that,” Zayn said resignedly.

“More than a handful, thank you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

***

“Gays are people too, Niall!” Harry yelled as Louis and Zayn climbed back into the flat. Liam shot them curious glances as they entered the living room, but he didn’t say anything.

“Of course gays are people too, you idiot, otherwise I’d be hanging out by myself right now, wouldn’t I?” Niall rolled his eyes and knocked back a shot of vodka.

“I’m not _gay_ gay,” Liam amended. “I like girls too.”

“Whatever,” Harry said, heaving a sigh. 

“I also have my moments of being not-gay,” Louis said, flopping on the floor next to Harry.

“Ditto,” Zayn said, slumping into Liam’s side. “Though I sense mine are more frequent than Louis’ are.”

“There should really be a mathematical equation for this,” Niall said, scratching his head in confusion.

“Why bother? Love who you want to love, fuck who you want to fuck, and don’t shut up about it until people finally pay attention,” Harry replied. The room fell into silence.

“Fuck, man,” Zayn said, shooting Louis a glance. Louis just smiled and shrugged. “You’re my hero.”

“I’m a prophet of old, it’s true. But also it’s really tiresome trying to be something you’re not. Even if you’re just doing it to get your stepdad’s approval.” Harry sighed. Louis moved to squeeze Harry’s wrist gently.

“I didn’t know that,” Louis murmured. “That sounds like shit.”

“He got used to it eventually. Thankfully my mum and sister are brilliant.” Harry flashed a grin.

“I don’t think my parents were surprised,” Zayn offered. “I’d been talking about getting married to my best mate from primary school for ages. They were a bit more upset when I took up smoking, actually.”

Liam snorted.

“Um. My mum caught me with my hand up a girls’ bra once during year six?” Niall offered. “Sorry, it seemed like story time.”

“What’d you do?” Liam asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Apologized to my mum after falling off the bed.”

“Smooth,” Louis said, rolling his eyes.

“You never got walked in on, then?” Niall asked.

“Oh, I did. By my sister. Very uncomfortable,” Louis answered, laughing.

“You’ve never walked in on him?” Zayn asked, poking Liam’s arm.

“I have. But I shut my eyes and backed away before I saw anything,” Liam admitted.

“God this is an incestuous little collective you’ve got here,” Niall muttered.

“Care to join?” Louis asked, eyes bright. “We’d love another member, even if you won’t kiss us and tell us we’re pretty.”

“You are pretty though,” Harry said, gripping Louis’ knee gently.

“Something weird’s going on, yeah?” Zayn asked, swiveling his head to look at Liam.

“I guess,” Liam said.

“Is this a cult? I knew it. Terrible idea,” Niall said, ducking his head down against his chest.

“Not a cult, just a group of fucking idiots,” Louis corrected, still smiling.

“That’s all right then,” Niall said. “That’s fine.”

“Never have I ever berated a straight person for being straight,” Liam said, laughing quietly to himself.

“Ridiculous,” Louis said, smirking. “I’ve never been able to do a cartwheel.”

“What?” Harry squawked with a laugh. “That’s also ridiculous. We need to remedy that,” he said as Liam took a drink.

“You can cartwheel?” Zayn asked Liam distractedly.

“Yeah,” Liam admitted, ducking his chin.

Louis smiled, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“What else can you do?”

“Box,” Liam explained. “And I can listen to vinyl and appreciate it quite a bit.”

Zayn snorted.

“I’m drunk,” Niall announced loudly. “And I require crepes.”

“I can make crepes!” Harry replied loudly, leaping to his feet and bounding into the kitchen. “Savory or sweet?”

“Both!” Niall called.

“Whipped,” Louis muttered, smacking Niall gently.

“Not even remotely on-point, you arse,” Niall said, rolling his eyes.

The four of them sat quietly, marinating in their various states of drunkenness before Harry delivered them food. Louis opened his arms and Harry collapsed into them, sighing contentedly.

“Cult,” Niall supplied, taking a bite of his Nutella-and-banana-filled crepe. “Shit, this is delicious.”

“Crepes are easy,” Harry said casually.

“Are you?” Louis asked with drunken ease.

“No. Not so much,” Harry responded, smiling as he placed a kiss on Louis’ forehead.

“Okay.”

Feeling vaguely useless, Zayn ducked forward and began kneading his finger and knuckles into Liam’s shoulders, massaging him a bit. Liam closed his eyes drunkenly, leaning into Zayn’s touch.

“Fuck that’s amazing,” Liam muttered, knocking his head sideways as Zayn shoved his fingers into Liam’s tense shoulder muscles. “You’re amazing, you are.”

“You’re drunk,” Zayn responds with a laugh, continuing to work his hands into Liam’s back.

“Not really though.” Liam rolled his neck to the right, opening his left shoulder for Zayn’s hands. “Not actually.”

“Oh. Okay,” Zayn said in response.

“Maybe I am,” Liam amended.

Liam wondered if maybe it could be this easy, if it was possible for two people to fit together without have to cut off corners, like dodgy puzzle pieces. He wondered if maybe some things weren’t actually meant to be difficult, or not as difficult as he’d thought. Maybe he really was always over-thinking things, telling himself that he couldn’t measure up to the bright, beautiful people he surrounded himself with.

He felt sick with it, with what he thought was bordering on happiness. Just this moment right now.

And later, of course, he was sick, head draped over the sink as he spit and heaved, forgetting for a moment that he was usually the responsible one. Then he forgot it again as he felt a hand curl onto his back, rubbing small circles. “Shh,” Zayn whispered, covering Liam’s back in tiny, gentle caresses. “I’ve got you.”

***  
Louis shoved Liam into bed after he got sick in their kitchen, gesturing with his head for Zayn to follow him. Zayn rolled his eyes but obliged, carefully leading Liam into his room.

Only then did Louis head back into the living room to cover Niall with a blanket, leaving him to lie on the floor.

“What time is it?” Hary asked from the armchair, stretching.

“One in the afternoon.”

“Nap?”

“Yes please.”

Louis led the way into his room and Harry shuffled along after him, humming softly to himself.

“Sorry our date got hijacked,” Louis said as he shut the door.

Harry, following behind, laid a hand on Louis’ lower back. “I don’t mind. I had a nice time, actually.”

“Didn’t ever.”

“Did actually. And I mean, this is you, isn’t it? This is your life. And now I get to tuck inside it.”

“Not quite sure it works that way,” Louis pointed out. “I think I stumbled onto you first.”  
***

Liam awoke in the fading twilight, strangely warm and thirsty simultaneously. He shifted, testing his limbs slowly until he realized Zayn was curled up against his side. He stilled abruptly, trying to recall if he had done something embarrassing in the past few hours.

He couldn’t entirely remember. So he smashed his pillow down and tried to fall back asleep.

After twenty minutes’ fruitless efforts, he shook Zayn by the hip. Zayn’s leg was draped over both of Liam’s own, clutching them tight against one another.

“You awake?” Liam muttered, feeling half-guilty and half-too-hungover-to-care.

“Mm.”

“You getting there, though?” He ran a shaky hand under Zayn’s shirt, careful with his light touches.

“Maybe.”

“Want me to suck you off?” he asked, barely audible as his fingers rested over Zayn’s pecs.

“Always.”

Liam instantly shoved his kneading fingers onto Zayn’s jeans—for fuck’s sake, why had he fallen asleep in his jeans—and lowered the zipper before yanking down the thick fabric. Zayn bucked his hips up to let Liam remove his jeans and boxers. Even in the dark, Liam can see that Zayn’s eyes were still closed, his face still slack with sleepiness. He tugged gently on Zayn’s cock, waiting for him to get hard. He felt like he had something to apologize for, but he didn’t know what. He was tired of always feeling guilty and stupid, so for now he was taking Louis’ advice and thinking with his dick.

Zayn grunted quietly and shifted his lips closer to Liam, more than half-hard. Liam moved his body down the bed, straddling Zayn’s calves. He spat into his hand lightly then curved it into a fist around Zayn, tugging harder.

“Always spitting,” Zayn whispered as Liam lowered his head, unsure of exactly when he had stopped trying to talk himself into something instead of just enjoying it. He wrapped his lips around the head of Zayn’s cock and gently bobbed up and down. Zayn hissed gently and thrust upward, running one hand over Liam’s hair. He let his tongue flick over the slit, getting it slick.

“Where did you learn to _do_ that,” Zayn asked, levering his hips up and down with more speed.

Liam mumbled something into Zayn’s dick, not really bothering to answer. He was no longer properly angry, and he thought he might be something like grateful. That confused him and scared him in equal measure. He didn’t know what to _do_ with his emotions, and he wasn’t used to that. He felt upturned.

So instead of thinking about his feelings and his actions and every fucking thing that was wrong with his life, he moved his attention to sucking cock. He splayed a hand at the base of Zayn’s shaft, pumping with his hand and mouth simultaneously. He felt Zayn tense slightly, breath going shallow as he picked up the pace of his lips and tongue.

Zayn was extremely hard and leaking slightly into Liam’s mouth. Liam threw himself forward rougher, working Zayn deeper into his throat, gagging slightly. He was gratified to hear Zayn stifle a moan with his hand.

“Close,” Zayn muttered raggedly. “So close.” His hands scrabbled against Liam’s shoulders, trying to gain purchase somehow. “Gonna—” he began, but his words were lost in a whining keen as Liam picked up the pace of his tongue _just so._

He rode Zayn through the climax with a few bobs of his head. Then he swallowed the come down easily, swiping a hand across his mouth after.

“You should seriously consider going pro,” Zayn whispered.

Liam laughed and levered himself up onto his elbows. “Did you just call me a hooker?”

“I’m just saying you could get paid for the filthy shit you just did to me.”

“You called me a hooker.” Liam moved up closer to the headboard to lie next to Zayn.

“Well, in this case it’s a compliment.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

They stayed like that, still on the bed and in a comfortable silence, until Liam’s stomach started growling.

“I bet you could get Harry to make you a four-course dinner just by telling him he has pretty hair,” Zayn pointed out.

“I’m skeptical about how he functions on a daily basis,” Liam responded. “He’s kind of like a beautiful kitten but also like a tornado. It’s weird.”

“Yeah, but he’s nice. Not totally stuck-up despite the beauty thing.”

“True. Like you,” Liam admitted. “You’re like that too.”

“I’m what?” Zayn whispered, unsure.

“Beautiful. But not in, like, an arsehole way.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Dude, you’re literally a model.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s true, though.”

“I only do it part-time.”

“I meant the part about you being stupid-beautiful.”

“That sounds like a decidedly backhanded compliment,” Zayn said with a snort.

“You literally just called a hooker.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. You could do porn instead, if you want.”

Liam laughed. “I just mean. You intimidated me when me first met. Usually people get away with a lot of shit if they’re beautiful and you’re just—not like that.”

“Well, yeah. My mum’d kill me if I acted like that.” Zayn snuffled slightly. “I really intimidated you?”

“Someone as beautiful as you? If I were married to someone as beautiful as you and had been for, like, seventeen years, I’d still be scared about the thought of, like, texting you first.”

Zayn choked back a laugh, realizing Liam was seriously. “What made you just—come up and kiss me, then?”

“Anger. Reckless idiocy. The realization that I couldn’t possibly fuck my life up even more than I had. Pure lust. The fact that you’d said I was fit.”

“You are fit.”

“How—how do you just do that?” Liam pushed himself up on one elbow to look down at Zayn, who was still prone on the duvet. “With the easy confidence and smooth chat-up lines?”

“Saying you’re well fit is not even a proper chat-up line. It’s just a fact, Liam.”

Liam groaned quietly and plopped his head back onto the pillow.

“Stop being so ridiculous and let me pay you a fucking compliment.”

“Thanks,” Liam said.

“You’re welcome.”

“For everything.”

“I know.”

***

Louis was at the kitchen table watching Harry flit around in front of the stove when Liam and Zayn walked in. Class rock music filtered through the room from speakers set on top of the fridge.

“You both look totally fucked-out,” Louis said pleasantly.

_“Harry what are you making?”_ Liam said in a rush, his neck and cheeks going pink with embarrassment. He sat down next to Zayn.

“Spag bol. You want? There’s plenty to share.”

“Til Niall wakes up,” Zayn said, sitting down across from Louis.

“He still asleep?” Harry asked, stirring something in a gently-steaming pot.

“Yeah, he seems to have rolled under the coffee table,” Liam replied.

“Oh. He’ll wake up once he smells food, I reckon,” Harry said with a shrug. “Ooh, good song!” he said as a Rolling Stones song started over the speakers. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he crooned, singing into the straining spoon in his hand.

“You’re staring, mate,” Liam pointed out, kicking Louis’ leg under the table.

“Shut up.” Louis rolled his eyes and harmonized quietly with Harry’s singing.

Liam hummed along, drumming his fingers on the table in time to the beat. Zayn bobbed his head side to side and sang along, smiling when he looked at Liam.

“Fuck, you lot sound good. You should start a band,” Niall said, sauntering into the room with a yawn.

Harry laughed and shot Niall a wide grin. “Spag bol’s almost done. Take a seat yeah?”

Louis stood up to help Harry serve out dishes and cutlery—or at least, he claimed that was his excuse. Rather he leaned against the counter and pulled Harry closer to him by his hips. Harry quirked an eyebrow.

“So.”

“So?” Harry replied.

“I like you.”

Harry nodded gravely. “I am decidedly likeable.”

“Is it appropriate to ask you on a second date while our very-long first date is still going on?”

“I’m not sure if it’s appropriate or inappropriate, but I’m going to say yes either way.” 

Harry bit his lower lip over a smile. He looked beatific for a moment, all gentle curls and pinking cheeks. Louis couldn’t make himself stay away no matter how much he worried he was going to ruin him. The thought of hurting Harry made Louis’ saliva taste metallic, but he just swallowed the thought down and tried to smile.


	7. Picking the Sensation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF! So much fluff and not a whole lot of plot progression but everyone deserves some fluff now and again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticism, and commiseration are always appreciated! xx

“It’s been real, lads, but I’ve got to head. Got a shift at the bar tomorrow. Can’t be asleep on my feet.” Niall stood up from the table and stretched languidly. “We should do this again. Not—not with the same set of circumstances,” he said, shooting Liam an apologetic look. “But like, hanging out.”

“Sure,” Liam said, nodding. The idea appealed to him.

Louis ushered Niall out of the apartment like the good host he was, leaving Liam, Zayn, and Harry sitting around the kitchen table.

“I should probably head in a bit, too. I have a shift in the morning at the store,” Zayn said.

Liam found himself nodding again. “I have a class and tutorial tomorrow. But. Um. We could hang out after if you have time?” he added, swallowing quickly.

Zayn grinned. “Love to.”

After Zayn left, Louis and Liam returned to the kitchen. Louis started doing the washing-up, much to Liam’s surprise, but he figured maybe he was just trying to make a good impression on Harry.

“So,” Harry said slowly, looking pointedly at Liam. “No more scary anger?

Liam shrugged. “No.”

“No more desire to throw yourself into an active volcano?”

“No.”

“Then I think it’s safe to say your prognosis looks good.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“You two are cute together.”

“Whatever that means.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. It’s just true.”

Liam gaped at the simplicity in Harry’s tone. Could it really be that easy? He was unsure. Not many things in his life had ever been _easy,_ precisely. Some things had come easier than others, but he had still had to work for them—he regularly visited the gym, he studied for his exams, he managed not to kill Louis.

But not one damn thing in his life had ever been easy.

He always felt he had something to prove to everyone, that he had to win everyone’s affection by being earnest and careful and perfect. He strived and he tried and he never felt good enough.

Louis turned around. “Is Liam giving you his fish-face?”

“I have a fish-face?” Liam asked, snapping his jaw shut.

“It’s your incredulous face. When you’re surprised that someone pays you a compliment. Even if it’s true.” Louis slung a tea-towel over his shoulder. “Which it is. You two are cute together.”

“Thank you.”

“You should get him to lend you his leather jacket. That would up your cool factor by at least twenty percent,” Louis said, cracking a smile.

“Ugh,” Liam replied, dropping his chin into his hands. “My cool factor would still be zero. I’m not cool enough for him.”

“I’m not always cool,” Louis said. “And when I’m not, I make up for it by being really good in bed and extremely hilarious.”

“Pretty, too,” Harry pointed out.

“So what am I then?”

“Self-deprecating, for starters. And wholesome.” Louis smirked.

“Wholesome?” Liam squawked, clapping his hands down on the table. “That’s sexy.”

“Oh, you’re that too,” Harry added. “Sexy. But I don’t know if you’re actually wholesome. Is he wholesome, Louis?”

“No. Just more so than I am.” Louis began stacking away the dishes from dinner. “And he’s goofy, and talented, and kind. But he’s also kind of an idiot because he doesn’t ever believe me when I say it.”

“Should I be jealous?” Harry asked calmly, eyes swiveling from Liam to Louis, who both laughed until they were breathless.

“I’m not sure if I should be insulted that you laughed, too, Liam,” Louis noted, turning around.

“You’re basically my brother,” Liam said. “My brother who’s throwing me a personal pity party.”

“Well your brother’s kicking you out of this party. You smell like a sex and a distillery. Take a shower, and maybe ice those bruises before class tomorrow.”

“Oh jeeze.” Liam rolled his eyes and grabbed at his neck.

“Whatever. Consider your elder brother proud of your drinking and slutting. And for your choice in men.”

“Thanks.”

***  
“Do you want dessert?” Louis asked, sticking his face into the refrigerator. “We might have freezer-burnt ice cream.”

“I’m okay, thanks.” Harry held a hand out in Louis’ direction, opening and closing his palm in a vague wave. Louis sat down on the table next to him and lay his hand on the table, palm up. Harry traced his fingers gently with his own, eliciting a smile from Louis.

“I don’t put out on the first date,” Louis said sharply. “Even if our date has been like twenty-four hours long.”

Harry laughed, slow and easy. “I don’t either.” He sighed. “Is Liam going to be okay?”

“Yes. He will.” Louis squeezed his hand shut around Harry’s fingers. “Thanks. But do you really wanna keep talking about him on our first date?”

“Sure. No. It just sucks to be cheated on.”

“Yeah. It does.” Louis caught his breath. “Are we having this discussion now? Kind of serious for a first date.”

“Which discussion?”

‘The My-Exes-Fucked-Me-Over-and-Here’s-How discussion.”

“Um. I can go first, if you want.” Harry laced his fingers together with Louis’ own. “I guess I have two really significant ex-boyfriends. Um, my first was during my last year of college, awhile after I came out. There weren’t that many gay kids around, like. We broke up because we were going to different universities, and he didn’t want to do long-distance.” He took a breath. “My second boyfriend and I dated for about a year and a half. He was pretty nice and stuff. The breakup was basically mutual, like. We just weren’t compatible for what we want long-term or whatever.”

Louis sat, rapt. “You don’t sound fucked-over.”

“I dunno. Other stuff fucked me up more, I guess. Family shit.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

“Tit for tat, Harry. Well I haven’t dated girls since primary, really. So. My first boyfriend not only took my virginity, he also took the virginity of his secret girlfriend. Or I guess, I was his secret boyfriend. So that was messy. But.” Louis sucked in a deep breath. “My second died in a car accident.”

“I’m—” Harry began, but Louis cut him off.

“I know. College was fucked up, to say the least. My third boyfriend cheated on me, and my fourth fell out of love with me. And here we are.”

“So.”

“Yeah, so there are the landmines you should be aware of.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I’ve freaked you out, haven’t I?”

“Not exactly. But I’m glad I know these things now.” Harry continued to clasp Louis’ hand on top of the table. “Anyone who cheated on you has to be utterly stupid.”

“Because I’m extremely cool and good-looking.”

“Also the bum is to-die-for.”

Louis preened playfully. “The arse is the moneymaker, it’s true. Just gotta wiggle it and people fall down drooling. I think my boss actually hired me just so she can stare at it every week.”

“Ever thought about taking her up on it?”

“Nah, she’s not my type. Which she knows. I think she’s just trying to fluster me.” Louis leaned back in his seat, pulling Harry’s hand with him. He rubbed his thumb over Harry’s.

“You don’t seem like you fluster easily.”

“You flustered me when we first met.”

“Oh, I remember that. You dropped books all over me.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Louis removed his hand from Harry’s and covered his face, embarrassed.

“I thought it was cute!”

Louis groaned. “Just what every man wants to be called. _Cute.”_

“Do you think I’m cute?”

“Well. Yeah, of course.” Louis huffed out a breath. “But you’re tall and muscular and like a manly cute, aren’t you,” he tried to say before Harry cut him off with a kiss.

“Shut up. Please.”

Louis heaved a sigh and said, “Fine.”

“Just, be who you are, okay? Because that’s good. That’s great.”

“You’re a prophet, you are, Harry Styles.”

***

Liam made his next two decisions the way many great and powerful adults had done before him: that is, in the shower. First, he decided to shave his head, like he did with every break-up. Second, he was going to continue fucking Zayn Malik.

Stipulations being that Zayn actually wanted to continue fucking him, of course, and that neither one of them would get attached or let things get complicated.

Also with the realization that people always complimented him on his bone structure every damn time he got a haircut. Not that his hair was particularly long at the moment, but he figured he could use all the mood-boosting compliments the world had to offer.

So if his classmates’ curious glances at him lingered longer than they typically did, well, Liam only noticed a little. He was surprised when the class tutor—a man paid by the university to help them slog through the dense material—tripped over his own feet during tutorial, nearly falling onto Liam’s lap.

Liam walked through the day in a vague daze, only halfway paying attention to the litany of confusion running though his head. He met up with Zayn at the record shop after his classes and tutorial were through.

He darted towards the counter. “Zayn! Zayn, thank god,” Liam sighed, chest heaving slightly. “Zayn, people keep staring at me.”

Zayn raised a brow and bit his lower lip. “Well, yeah, mate, you’ve just unleashed your widow’s peak on the world. What did you expect?”

_“Make it stop.”_

“Couldn’t if I tried. What brought on the dramatic shearing?”

“Traditional after a breakup, isn’t it?” Liam stated, as though it were obvious.

“I guess.”

“Is it really that dramatic?”

“Well, I mean, it was short before, but it was kind of a quiffy short, wasn’t it? Like it went upwards. And now there’s just the widow’s peak and the puppy-eyes and the lips.”

Liam groaned. “I feel like this entire week has just been people making kind but pitying personal remarks at me.”

“I’m lost.”

“Louis and Harry spent like twenty minutes telling me flattering things about myself while making goo-goo eyes at each other. It was maddening.”

“You’re describing really normal things in like a really dramatic manner, you know.”

“What?”

“That’s basically what friends are for, mate. To say nice shit about you and keep you from getting puke in your hair. Not that you’ll have that problem anymore, I guess.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No. I’m just glad you didn’t chop it all off yourself, like in some silly self-discovery movie-montage of emotional pain.”

Liam stared at him, incredulous.

“What?” Zayn sputtered. “I have sisters. They watch movies about emotional pain. No pun intended. The last name, I mean.”

“Right. I guess.” Liam rubbed his palm over his ever-bristling and very-short hair. “Change the subject, shall we?”

“What’s the first thing you’d do in a zombie apocalypse?” Zayn asked, because _of course he did._

“Stockpile supplies, find a weapon, and locate my loved ones.”

Zayn nodded slowly. “I’m not sure I’d make it out a zombie apocalypse alive, really. I’m not very scrappy or weapon-savvy.”

“Plus you smoke, which cuts down on the lung capacity for running away at top speeds.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll just get drunk and find a way to shoot myself in the face painlessly.”

Liam huffed a breath. “Not funny.”

“Sorry, suicide seems a rational solution to a hypothetical zombie-feast in which I have to watch my intestines being eaten by savages.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re lucky they might go for your head first.”

“My head probably is the meatiest portion of my body, Mr. Zero-percent-body-fat.” Zayn flicked Liam’s bicep with a finger.

“Zayn, you have no body fat either.”

“So I wouldn’t survive the winter in an abandoned crack-shack come the zombie apocalypse?” he asked sharply.

“Nobody would. England is cold in the wintertime.”

“Plus I don’t think I could live in a crack-shack if it didn’t have a mirror. This ‘do takes time, mate,” Zayn said, gesturing to his hair.

“Just another reason it’s nice to have short hair. Easier to clean blood out of, too,” Liam replied, running his hand over his buzzcut.

“I thought you wanted me to not talk about your stunning new style,” Zayn pointed out.

“True. How has work been?

“Pretty good. I’m trying to convince my boss Paul to diversify a bit—it’s hard to break the bank with vinyl when people can access things online. Even if vinyl sounds much better.”

“Diversify how?”

“Instruments, music lessons. Things like that.”

Liam mulled this over. “That’s a good idea, actually. I’d never have thought of that.”

Zayn shrugged. “He’s considering it. Niall offered to teach guitar if Paul likes my idea, and I was thinking I could maybe enlist Louis for piano if he needs some more cash.”

“You gonna teach something too? I never asked if you play any instruments.”

“I dabble. I was thinking I’d teach voice lessons, though, actually.” Zayn’s cheeks pinked a bit as he said this.

“That’s so cool, man, really.” A rush of genuine gladness hit Liam in the chest: he was glad that Zayn was doing something cool, glad that Zayn had shared this thought with him, glad that things seemed normal between them despite Liam’s tendency to over-think everything.

“Thanks.” Zayn ducked his chin down with a small smile. “Anyway, I’ve got a customer, but my shift’s over in twenty.”

“Cool, I’ll wander.” Liam perused the new arrivals section and purchased a few albums before Zayn’s shift was up. Then Zayn easily shrugged on his leather jacket, clocked out, and threw his arm around Liam. They walked back to Zayn’s flat leisurely.

Zayn let them in and flipped on the telly before flopping down on the couch beside Liam. Zayn flipped through the channels while Liam took his time to glance around the room, which he realized he had never properly done before. The flat was small and looked lived-in. Most of the walls were covered in vibrant-looking paintings or photographs or postcards tacked up.

“I like that,” Liam said, pointing to a green-and-blue abstract piece on the side of Zayn’s living room.

“Thanks. I, um, made it last year.”

“Wow,” Liam breathed. “Is there anything you can’t do?

“I can’t cook.”

Liam snorted.

“No really. I can’t.”

“Is that why you’re also Mr. Zero-body-fat?”

Zayn barked a laugh. “No. Not really.”

“Tape worm?”

“Dude, stop insinuating I look like a fucking concentration camp victim.”

“You don’t! Fuck no. You’re well fit. You’re just skinny, I mean. You know that. It’s not bad. Not at all.” Liam sucked in a breath. “I’m babbling.”

“Yes. You are.” Zayn shrugged. “I’m just naturally slender, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Zayn replied sharply. “Let’s change the subject.” He leaned sideways on the sofa and planted a kiss directly on Liam’s lips. He moved to straddle Liam’s hips, and Liam smiled into his kiss.

***  
“I do know how to swim, you know,” Louis said, yanking his t-shirt off over his head. He, Harry, and the Finch children were currently perched in a collection of chairs pool-side at the athletic club near the Finches’ house.

“It’s best to take precautions,” Harry replied, before inflating a pair of water-wings each for Rebecca and Jasper.

“I’m not wearing a life-vest, Harry.”

“Set a good example for the kids, why don’t you?”

“Even the kids aren’t wearing life-vests, you realize.”

“They’re in the kiddie pool. A life-vest wouldn’t save them from drowning in six inches of water.”

“Good thing they have you. And these adorably buoyant water-wings.”

“Plus Eileen’s been swimming for years.”

“Then why is she in the kiddie pool?”

“She’s a good sport. She’ll get bored in a bit and demand someone take her to the regular pool, but Jasper and Rebecca hang on her every action. Easier to wrangle when there’s two responsible adults around.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

“How far would you go?” Harry asked, smirking.

“There are _children_ around, honestly.” Louis’ eyes widened.

“I like swimming inside because then I don’t have to wear sunscreen,” Eileen said, helping Rebecca put on a water-wing. “And this pool’s way bigger than the other one.”

“Eileen, if you leave the kiddie area, let one of us know. We’ll take you to the regular pool, okay?” Harry said as he put water-wings on Jasper.

“Okay.” Eileen sat down on the edge of the kiddie pool and Louis sat down next to her. “How many tattoos do you have, Mr. Louis?” she asked, poking the bird on his forearm. “A lot, I think.”

“I don’t know, actually. I’ve lost count.”

“That’s what Harry says, too. He has a lot of tiny ones. They’re fun to prod. He squawks when you prod the sparrows.” Eileen giggled behind her hand.

“Oi, cheeky. I do not ever squawk!” Harry said gravely as he helped Jasper and Rebecca into the shallow water.

“Not your typical au pair, are you, Harry?” Louis asked as he let Eileen inspect his numerous tattoos.

“I suppose not,” Harry said, sinking down to sit in the water beside Rebecca.

“Harry’s sister Gemma used to nanny me, but then she moved. So now he watches us and makes sure Jasper doesn’t swallow any more pound coins or thumbtacks,” Eileen said, kicking her feet in the water.

“Thumbtacks?” Louis asked, horrified.

“We narrowly avoided him actually swallowing any,” Harry said, closing his eyes as Jasper splashed him with water. “But he’s definitely swallowed a small mint in pound coins.”

“Troublemaker.”

“Yeah, I’m actually a calming force in their lives, if you can believe it.” Harry gave Rebecca a high-five.

“It’s cuz he bores us with his rubbish stories,” Eileen said, rolling her eyes.

“Sassy,” Louis said. “Well played.”

“Come on,” Eileen said, placing her hand into Louis’ own. “Will you toss me?”

So Louis spent the next half-hour tossing Eileen into the water, enjoying the sound of her delighted shrieks and giggles. Once he spotted Harry looking at him with something like adoration, and he swallowed down his rising panic. He tried to convince himself he would be fine, that he wouldn’t purposefully sabotage this, but he had no idea if he was lying to himself or not. He was much too used to his own misery to be comfortable in this new and uncharted territory.

But if Harry knew how to take care of children as well as he clearly did, well, then maybe he could take care of Louis’ stupid, immature heart.

 

“So you’re not married, then, Mr. Louis, but do you want to be married someday? You never did answer my question, you know,” Eileen pointed out during the drive back to the Finches’ house. She had a towel wrapped dramatically around her head, telling Harry that her mother always wore her wet hair that way.

“Probably someday. But I have time to figure things out, don’t I?” Louis responded from the front seat.

“But you’re a grown-up and everything.”

“Yeah, but not all grown-ups are married,” Harry said.

“Harry said he wants to get married to a boy!” Rebecca piped up cheerfully, still wearing her water-wings despite being in her car-seat.

“He did?” Louis asked, giving Harry a sidelong glance from the passenger seat. Harry’s cheeks were pink.

“Yep. So we had a wedding for my teddy bear Joe and Jimmy the frog so he could practice getting married,” Rebecca went on.

“That sounds lovely.”

“It was,” Rebecca said solemnly.

“Maybe he can marry you, Mr. Louis,” Jasper said, kicking his feet into the back of the seat in front of him.

“Looks like we have another amateur matchmaker on our hands,” Louis said, grinning.

“I don’t know what that means,” Jasper said. “Don’t leave me out!”

“Sorry, Jasper,” Harry replied, smiling slightly. “I didn’t know you were so good at setting people up to get married.”

“Obviously,” Jasper said in a careful tone. “Obviously I am.”

“Obviously,” Harry agreed.


	8. Cutting it Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stolen conversations and lots of second-guessing

“God, I’m starving,” Liam grumbled quietly from the floor in front of Zayn’s sofa. They had quickly moved from the couch to the floor for their marathon kiss-touch-fuck session, and they were still in varied states of undress.

Liam was propped up behind Zayn, staring at the tattoos on his back.

“I don’t cook,” Zayn reminded him, cheek resting on the rug with his face toward the television screen

“I can make something. Or order take-away or something.”

“Is this a thing we’re doing, then?”

“Eating food? I think people have been eating food since the dawn of time, really.” Liam wished he could see Zayn’s face—Zayn who seemed very skilled in the art of schooling his voice to sound immeasurably calm.

“No, I mean, what we’re doing.”

“Do you not want to eat food?” Liam placed a hand on Zayn’s ribs.

“Not the point.” Zayn covered Liam’s hand with his own.

“I thought it was. I just asked if you want me to make food. Is there something else going on? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure what I’m saying.”

“Is it, like, a thing? Like you don’t like food, or you don’t like me sticking around, or you’re tired or something? I’m a bit thick sometimes, mate, I don’t know what’s going on right now.”

“Like, what’s going on with us?”

“Oh,” Liam breathed. “Um, I mean, well, we’re friends, right? That hasn’t changed, right?”

“Right.”

“But we’re fooling around, like. Is that a problem?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Necessarily what, then,” Liam asked, still a bit confused.

“Not necessarily as long as we talk about it, I guess.”

“Okay, so let’s talk.”

“Is this gonna fuck everything up?” Zayn asked, finally turning his face to look at Liam.

“Has it already fucked everything up?” Liam twitched slightly at swearing during this important conversation.

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you think it’s gonna fuck everything up?”

“I have no idea.”

“I hope it doesn’t fuck everything up. I like you,” Liam said genuinely.

Zayn was holding his breath, Liam realized. “I like you too.” Liam dug his fingers a bit deeper into Zayn’s side.

“Is this gonna make you stop liking me?” Liam asked, hating the earnest nervousness in his voice.

“I, well, I don’t think so.”

“Can we—we need to keep talking about it, though. Like, if it does make things bad. Right?”

“I’ll keep you updated,” Zayn said, voice light.

Liam bucked himself upward to a standing position and yanked on his pants. “Right. It’s settled, then. I’m going to make something vaguely edible.”

“You don’t have to,” Zayn replied from the floor, waving a hand at him lazily. “Come back, the floor’s cold.”

“That’s probably because you’re naked.”

“Why are you putting on your boxers? That’s uncalled for.”

“I’m not going to stand in front of a stove without something covering my willy. That’s just idiotic,” Liam called as he entered the kitchen.

“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I doubt I have it,” Zayn replied, his voice muffled by the rug. “I have pot noodle and Angel Delight. That’s about it.”

Liam opened the fridge and realized that Zayn was not in any way exaggerating. The fridge contained beer, an empty takeaway container, a bottle of mustard, and six cherry tomatoes.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.”

“Good thing I’ve already gotten in your pants and I no longer have to worry about impressing you.”

“Gee, how quickly the passion has died.” Liam returned to the living room and sat down in front of the sofa. “What kind of food do you want? I’m buying.”

“No.”

“It’s the least I can do for this privileged look into your inner sanctum,” Liam pointed out, grabbing his jeans to locate his mobile. He was trying not to stare at Zayn’s bare ass, which was proving alarmingly difficult.

“My cape and suit are in a hidden cupboard behind the wall paneling.” Zayn rolled onto his back and folded his arms beneath his head. He laughed when he realized Liam had fallen silent. “I’m joking, you realize.”

“I didn’t want you to be joking, though. That sounds awesome.” Liam pretended the reason he hadn’t resumed speaking was that he was picturing Zayn in a superhero costume, not because Zayn was still very, decidedly naked.

“And you seemed so normal when I met you. You hid the geekery so well.”

Liam rolled his eyes and asked, “Is that going to be a problem?”

Zayn lifted up his forearm, where the word _zap_ was prominently tattooed. “Observe.”

“Right. What sort of food do you want? I think I could eat a horse. Have you ever eaten horse?”

“I’m too exhausted to eat. Leave me here to wither,” Zayn said, throwing his upraised forearm over his eyes.

“Um, do you want me to leave you be, then?”

“No.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just come here.” Zayn laid his arms open flat on the rug and smiled. Liam crawled closer to him and curled next to Zayn’s prone form. They lay in silence for a long collection of minutes, which allowed Liam time to pay attention to his surroundings.

Among the tacked-up postcards and splashy paintings, there were framed photographs of Zayn and people who looked like his relatives. The television was precariously placed on top of a rickety side-table, and around it were small action figures and tubes of paint. Liam spied a record player in one corner of the room, on top of a large steamer trunk that likely contained his vinyl collection.

The air cooled Liam’s sweat-slick skin as he considered what to say next. A multitude of notions ran through his head but he dismissed them as pointless compared to the comfortable silence that had enveloped them.

Liam planted a kiss on Zayn’s jaw.

***

“I’m considering adopting a pet rabbit,” Harry said on his and Louis’ second date. Sitting at a two-seater in a small ice-cream parlor, they each held a cone with two scoops and chocolate flake.

“You are? What are you gonna name it?”

“Hare,” Harry stated simply.

“Hare.”

“Yeah. Like Hairstyle.”

“It’s…also basically your name, you realize.”

“Well yeah. Self-indulgence at its finest, right here.” Harry pointed an index finger to his own face.

“Your angel face belies that narcissism.”

“I’ve told you, I’m not a damn angel,” Harry growled, low in his chest.

“Not even a fallen angel? Going down with a roar and fated to live in the rubble and hellfire?”

“Not sure I’m built for that kind of life.”

“What, going to hell?

“I don’t like disappointing people,” Harry said simply. “I just. I don’t like it.”

“Afraid of hell _and_ of disappointing people? How did you ever come out of the closet?” Louis said with a choked-off laugh.

Harry was silent a moment, licking his ice cream contemplatively. “I’m not interested in disappointing myself, either.”

“Good man, Harry fucking Styles.” Louis shook his head. “How are you even real?”

“My cells coalesced and attained cognition, I suppose.”

Louis was silent a moment before shaking his head. “Fucking academics and your ridiculous vocabularies,” he said with a laugh.

“I am real, though. I’m not made up, I’m not a cartoon character, I’m just someone. Like, a person.”

“I’m having trouble believing that, a bit.” 

Louis was underplaying this. His head was full of cancerous doubts—doubts that Harry would realize he could never live up to such perfection, that he would laugh at the idea that Louis ever thought he was fit or worthy to date someone so lovely. Louis was a bundle of concerns and acidic nightmares, and he was letting them burn away at him. They were taking him hostage and burning him alive.

“Why?” Harry breathed.

“You’re too good to be true.”

“Am I going to have to spend weeks fucking up just to prove to you that I’m mortal?”

Louis laughed. “No, nothing so dramatic.”

“What, then?”

Louis stared at him adoringly. He found Harry terrifying, for all the wrong reasons. Harry was simultaneously a kitten and a predator, yet somehow he was innocently lapping up ice cream and looking at Louis like he’d set the sun in the sky that morning. 

“Maybe just this. This is good.”

“What, me dripping ice cream down my chin and getting embarrassed when you notice?” Harry shot him a lopsided grin.

“Embarrassed? Nah, it’s proper adorable, isn’t it?”

“Whatever you say.” Harry graced him with another smile and Louis almost choked on his tongue.

***  
Liam exited the underground at his Tube stop, abruptly halting twenty feet outside the door.

“Oi, watch it,” someone muttered after bodily running into him.

Liam tried to apologize.

Only. Only he couldn’t, really, could he, not when he was staring at an advertisement that bore a shirtless Zayn on it. Liam’s mouth went dry and he stumbled sideways out of the path of people exiting the train.

He knew that torso, knew it with an intimate intensity that scared him. He’d bitten marks into those tattoos—certainly before this photo was taken, certainly—and he’d kissed stripes up and down that neck.

But part of him wished that neck and torso and body and boy meant nothing to him. A big part of him wished that he felt not need to stop in the middle of a train station to stare—open-mouthed _stare_ —at at a fucking advertisement.

A larger part of him knew that he was done-for and probably had been for months, long before the split with Danielle and long before the potentially ill-advised fucking of his hot guy friend. He was long gone and he nearly always had been.

Before he could think harder, before he could torture himself more, he removed his phone from his pocket to send a possibly nonchalant message to Zayn.

_just seen you on a billboard mate that’s great_ he thumbed into his phone before overthinking it. Then he heaved a sigh and mounted the steps up, heading to work.

_oh god the toothpaste advert? Christ_ came the prompt reply.

_yehhh man looks good_

He ignored his phone throughout the entirety of his shift, though it turned out he needn’t have bothered. Zayn never responded.

So Liam traipsed to the tailor after work, opting to pester Louis the way Louis so often pestered him at the mechanic. Louis introduced him to the new employee Perrie. She was all purple hair and bright eyes and wide smiles, and she didn’t bat one lash when Alex their boss complimented her tits.

Liam liked her. He really did. He liked her as a person and he was glad that Louis had a nice new coworker to take up some of the slack and he enjoyed watching Louis make her laugh.

He tried to remind himself that he liked her when Zayn entered the shop and gave Perrie an obvious up-and-down glance, looking wolfish and slightly predatory. For the second time that day, Liam’s mouth went dry.

A moment later, Zayn’s face stilled and he greeted them casually.

“I’m Perrie,” she introduced herself, sticking a hand across the counter. “How do you know Louis and Liam?”

“I met them at the record shop down the way. I work there.” Zayn shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He finally gave Liam a bright smile, teeth glinting white in the afternoon sun from the shop window.

“Nice to meet you. I’ll have to pop in sometime. I had to leave a lot of my music back home when I moved, more’s the pity,” Perrie said forlornly.

“How long have you lived in the city then?” Louis asked politely from behind the register where he was organizing receipts.

“About a month. Share a flat with three of my mates. It’s a bit of a madhouse, really. But fun.”

Liam found himself smiling and nodding, making some inane comment about how living with Louis was kind of like living in a madhouse. Only when he noticed how false his tone sounded did he fall silent.

Liam wondered when he grew so unused to being a normal human being. He marveled at his own discomfort in a situation that was really not all that atypical—two of his friends having a chat with a new acquaintance, nothing even worth writing home about.

Because that’s one thing Liam can’t do for shit: he can’t really figure out feelings. He cannot decode people. He could joke that maybe he’s just a bit thick, but that’s not it, really, not it at all. He’s good at maths and at music and at taking care of people. But fuck him, he doesn’t _understand them._ Much as he always wanted to.

He wanted to so badly, so he listened intently to the murmurs and mutters of Zayn and Perrie and Louis and he tried to follow them, tried to force himself to understand. But perhaps a part of him didn’t want to understand the looks that Zayn was giving Perrie, and perhaps another part of himself didn’t want to watch Louis watching him.

Liam’s fucked-up reverie was interrupted by Alex, Louis’ boss, calling to Perrie from the back room. “Hey Pez, come here for a sec so I can show you how to use the industrial steam-cleaner!”

“Pardon me, fellas,” Perrie excused herself and ducked away from them.

_Finally, finally,_ Liam thought selfishly.

“What time are you off, Lou?” he asked, feigning a calm he hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Twenty minutes, give or take.” Louis shuffled the papers in his hands.

“You guys wanna grab food after, then?” Liam asked next.

Zayn shook his head slowly.

“Really? You on a hunger strike or something?” Liam joked, though his delivery fell flat.

He felt Zayn’s body still beside him. “No. That’s not. No.”

“Okay, right. Then why…” Liam trailed off, not trusting himself to finish that thought, because _oh_ he should have expected this. 

He should have expected an eventual rejection from Zayn, should have realized that he was only an acquaintance and maybe a pity-fling and nothing something worth sticking around for.

“Oh, I gotta head into work in a bit, that’s all.”

Oh. “Oh, nothing against the fine art of eating, then?” Louis retorted with a chuckle.

“Not as such.”

“Really, Zayn, not even a sandwich? I can drop one by or whatever, no problem.” Liam realized belatedly that he sounded silly, trying to force someone to eat. He sounded like someone’s mother, for God’s sake.

“No, no, I’m good.” Zayn graced him with a small smile. “Thanks.”

Perrie bustled back into the front of the store. “Boss-lady is sending me for take-away, anyone need anything?”

“No thanks, I head out in twenty anyway,” Louis said.

“Gotcha. Alex wants food from the China Doll, that’s just down the road, right?” Perrie pulled a jacket over her arms and looked at them expectantly.

“Yeah, it’s right by the record shop. I can show you where it is, if you want,” Zayn offered easily.

“Really? Great, thanks!” Perrie clapped her hands together once. “See you lads later?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Louis said, expression blank.

“Have a good evening,” Liam added as Zayn and Perrie opened the outside door, letting in more fading sunlight and a bit of chilly air.

***  
Louis watched Liam as they left the tailor, watched his face slowly crumble with confusion and longing. He watched Liam stare at his shoes as they walked to the Tube station, watched Liam fumble with his card.

He watched Liam’s gaze linger on an advertisement featuring Zayn along one wall and he watched Liam tear his gaze away. He watched Liam struggle with something deep inside, and he was hesitant to ask just what he was wrestling with. 

Liam was the persistent one, the one who sat through Louis’ strops and tantrums and snits. Liam was calm and sensible and so earth-shatteringly good. He was methodical. Louis had no bleeding clue how to prod Liam gently enough to get him to open up but roughly enough to do some good.

“What are you thinking about?” he chanced, still watching Liam’s guarded face.

“What am I doing wrong?” Liam whispered, ducking his chin down.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Why do I keep second-guessing myself all the time? That’s not normal for me. What am I doing wrong this time? With Zayn.”

Louis sighed. “Well it’s kind of uncharted territory a bit, isn’t it? You’ve never been cheated on til now, you’ve never been with a guy til now. And you haven’t really done the friends-with-benefits thing very much.”

“Yeah,” Liam agreed slowly. “But like, what if I’m just transferring my affection from Danielle to Zayn? What if I’m going about this all wrong and should just be alone or whatever.”

“You’re overthinking this a bit, aren’t you? You’re not dating him, not moving in together, not even doing anything all that insane. Just trust your instincts a bit, mate.”

“Really?”

“I trust your instincts. They’ve never steered me wrong yet.” Louis gave Liam a small but genuine smile.

“I guess. But can you trust his?”

“I’m not talking to him right now, I’m talking to you. And to be honest the only thing to be done when you’re feeling this way is to chatting it out. But I’m probably not the one you need to be chatting with.”

“I think he’s worried we’re going to fuck everything up.”

“And you?”

“I can’t really tell him that we won’t. That’s not fair, is it?”

“He knows as well as I do that life is unpredictable. It’s not like you’re promising him anything. Just stick to being honest and open and I’d say you’ll likely be all right. He’s not looking for _fair,_ Liam. I think he’s just looking to be with you.”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“Then I think he’ll forgive you.”

They boarded the train.

***

Liam tried to control the constricting in his chest when he saw Zayn next. The record shop wasn’t particularly busy, but Zayn—well, Zayn was tucked in a corner showing a record to a pretty girl with purple hair. So Liam had second-guessed himself, but maybe he had been right to do so after all.

Liam waited until Zayn saw him and walked over to greet him. “Hey, didn’t see you come in.”

“Sorry, you looked busy. Didn’t wanna interrupt.” Liam shuffled his feet, wishing he knew how to read minds.

“No you’re fine. It’s fine.”

“Is that Perrie?” Liam gestured with his chin.

“Yeah, she stopped in to say hi.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah. She’s nice.”

And what was Liam? If Perrie was nice, well, then Liam was jealous.

“I saw another one of your adverts today, on my way out of class,” Liam said, cutting off his envious thoughts with a smile. “That’s pretty cool, you know?”

Zayn shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It’s just a job.”

“S’kinda funny seeing you all around though.”

“Yeah, next thing I know you’ll get sick of seeing me.” Zayn pulled a tight smile and resolutely did not meet Liam’s eye-line.

“No,” Liam breathed. “No, I don’t think so.”

Zayn’s head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“You’ve got a face to kill for, mate.” Lim was unsure whether his words could be played off as a joke or not. Well, either way, he meant them.

“Ah, well thank God for that at least.” Zayn’s gazed dropped to Liam’s lips and then to Liam’s neck, where a blackberry-colored bruise still lingered days after it had been pressed there urgently.

“How’s work been?”

“Fine. Bit dull. Oh, Niall knows this guy, because of course he does, right. But this guy’s supposed to be an amazing guitarist and songwriter. He’s having a show this weekend, you interested?”

So Liam put the second-guessing to rest for a day.

***  
Louis grabbed Harry’s hand with a chuckle.

“Where are we going, Lou?” Harry asked, breathless.

“I’m not telling you, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“I’m no good with surprises though. I just wanna know!”

“Fine. _Fine!”_ Louis expelled with a louder laugh as Harry poked him in the side. “We’re going to the aquarium.”

“We are?”

“Yes. Because I like penguins and because sometimes you remind me of a very large and very clingy starfish. Happy?” Louis flushed as he emitted this statement, but he was rewarded with a bright, slow grin from Harry.

“Deliriously. Lead on.”

Louis pulled Harry down the road by one hand, Harry following a bit like a puppy. They stopped at a red light, standing beside a crowded bus shelter waiting for the signal to change.

“Holy shit, is that Zayn on that poster?” Harry asked, voice halfway between awed and amused.

“Hm? Oh yeah, some toothpaste advert or something,” Louis answered, turning his head toward the bus shelter.

“Christ. Does he always look that emaciated or is the light playing tricks on my eyes?”

Louis bit the inside of his cheek. “Haven’t really seen him shirtless in real life,” he said slowly.

“Well, I can count all his ribs from the poster alone.”

The signal changed, and they crossed the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my loves. Let me know if you have comments/criticisms/Brit-picks/kudos and the like. Thanks for reading! xx


	9. Stereo Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A minor misunderstanding, a litte bit of cutesy, and a cameo from Ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I forget if I've included people or not (I have a lot of fics going) and I was worried I'd named Ed as Zayn's boss already but apparently that was Paul, so we're good. SO Ed makes an appearance, as do a few of my favorite Little Mix ladies.

Louis grew almost unbearably fond of the way Harry interacted with the Finches. He felt a solid and unrelenting ache behind his sternum whenever Harry picked up Jasper and kissed away tiny scratches and cuts, promising a plaster would make him feel _all better._ He thought he might die each time Harry ruffled Rebecca’s feather-light blonde hair out of her eyes and helped tie the strings on her red superhero cape, telling her she was the strongest and fiercest person he had ever met. Louis felt his heart collapse in on itself when Harry let Eileen dance with him, her feet safely planted on top of his as he whisked her about the house.

He did not want to want anyone this deeply, to actively ache just from looking at another human being. He did not want to cherish something—no, someone—he could so easily lose. He was doubtless going to lose Harry, once Harry saw him for the pitiful, ridiculous thing he was. And Harry was just so good and right and kind. The world had no doubt been kind towards Harry in ways it had not been kind to Louis.

Louis guessed that Harry’s childhood was free of overwhelming panic and intense moral quandaries and crippling self-doubt. Perhaps his childhood could be described in enchanting terms, in hazy, soft memories of youthful birthday parties, of trees climbed and forts built, and maybe the occasional broken bone marring what could otherwise be deemed as perfection. Louis tortured himself with images of construction-paper crowns and bike rides in late spring and of Harry being someone’s first love.

Harry was ruining him. Ruining him and making him feel complete all at once.

Louis had an unquenchable _need_ to be loved. Not adored or admired like a distant king or a popular rockstar. He needed someone to know his faults and to tell him that everything might someday be okay, that he mattered and his flaws did not undermine him in the slightest. He felt like his days had a wide, gaping hole in them and he needed everything to be filled with warm, comforting love.

He was half-convinced that he needed Harry in a very tangible, crushing way, and the idea terrified him.

Louis found himself staring fondly at Harry more often than not, and not only when he was at the Finches’ house. When he, Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Harry went to the show Niall recommended, Louis couldn’t help but stare. Longingly. He was disgusting even himself.

 

They grabbed a table in a mid-size club that was currently about half-full, Louis situating himself between Liam and Louis. Zayn and Niall sat across from them in the booth, peering intently at the screen of Niall’s phone.

“Have you heard him play before?” Louis asked Harry, swallowing down what felt like rising bile in his throat.

“Ed? Yeah, Niall’s always insanely enthusiastic about new stuff he finds. If I didn’t listen to his stuff, I’d have nothing to talk to Niall about. I think Niall would become him if he could. He’s amazing.”

“What kind of music does he play?”

“Hm. Well kind of indie acoustic rock stuff? But you should totally get drunk with him and Niall and listen to him rap. It’s impressive. Their rap battles are legendary.”

“Niall raps?”

“He tries.”

Louis snorted. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“I would never impugn his character that way,” Harry promised with a grin. “You okay, Leem?” he said next, pointing at Liam with his chin.

“Yeah. Just a little tired, that’s all. So you said this guy is really good?” Liam leaned onto the table to meet Harry’s gaze.

“Yeah, he’s amazing. Really friendly, too, he’ll probably hang with us after the show.”

“I call ref at the rap battle!” Louis exclaimed, causing Zayn and Niall to look up, startled. “Liam can do background vocals. I’ve heard him beatbox, it’s nuts.”

A slow smiled curled onto Zayn’s face. “You can beatbox?”

Liam returned the look with a smile of his own. “ I can try.”

“He does it sometimes when he visits me at work, when we’re slow. It’s quite entertaining.”

“How’s work going, then?” Niall asked, suddenly interested. “I heard you got a fit new coworker.”

“Perrie?” Louis felt Liam stiffen beside him. “Yeah, she’s cool. Nice to have someone around to chat with who doesn’t look at me like a piece of meat. Plus she’s pretty chill.”

“And she’s here,” Liam pointed out, gesturing across the club.

***  
Liam’s dry mouth was starting to become a problem. His jealousy was unbecoming, and he knew it, and he knew he had no claim over Zayn whatsoever. And he really, really wanted to like Perrie. But she was _here_ and that was _bad_ and he was having a lot of trouble swallowing his own spit.

“Hey!” Perrie called, slipping into the booth beside Niall. “What are we drinking, lads?” She waved a bartender over to them and they ordered another round. Then she introduced herself to Harry and Niall and waved to Liam and Zayn with a bright smile.

“Now, is it my imagination, or did I see your stripped-bare torso on a bus shelter not five yards from here?” she asked next, leaning across the table to peer at Zayn.

“Why does everyone keep brining that up?” Zayn countered with a small groan that Liam found weirdly adorable.

“Because it’s hilarious, that’s why,” Harry said with a shrug.

“It’s just a job.”

“Do you get free makeup and clothes and stuff after shoots?”

Liam had spent so much time with males lately that he had sort of forgotten what hanging out with a girl could be like. Not that his mates were in any way stereotypical males. At any rate, though, they were not the kind of males who frequently wore makeup.

“Nah, not really.” Zayn stayed bent forward onto the table, smiling toward Perrie in a way that Liam hated to admit made him uncomfortable. Then he smiled gratefully as the bartender brought their drinks to the table.

“How’d you get started on all that, anyway?” Perrie asked, accepting her pint and tipping the bartender generously. “Cheers.”

“Went to an open audition late in college and thought I might as well continue it. The pay’s decent enough, when I get gigs. Thought I might save up for uni or something but now I don’t know anymore.” Zayn shrugged again and paid for his drink.

“Gotcha. I’m studying fashion merchandising, took me ages to save up enough to attend, even with financial aid. Grateful for the job at the tailor’s, actually. Keeps me flush enough for hair dye and pints.”

Damn it. Liam liked her.

Niall clapped her on the back with a small laugh. Liam gulped down his drink while trying not to stare at Zayn possessively. Instead he watched Niall show Perrie something on his phone, and he listened to Harry talk about Ed’s talent for song-writing, and he drank his drink.

“I’m gonna go to the loo before the show starts,” he announced abruptly, surprising himself with how British he sounded. He excused himself and found a dingy bathroom at the back of the club. He was washing his hands and staring contemplatively at his reflection in the tiny mirror when Zayn entered the bathroom.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you all right?” Zayn asked immediately, poking Liam in the side.

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired. Courses are wearing me down a bit, that’s all.”

“So you’re not upset about anything? You seem really quiet.”

“No, I’m fine.” He was _fine._

“You don’t sound fine. Like, at all. Get out of your head. It’s just me. Use your words, please.”

“Perrie seems nice.”

“Right,” Zayn said slowly. “Remember when you told me not to be cryptic? I need to brook the same deal with you.”

“I’m fine. But,” Liam trailed off. “But I think I’m also a little bit jealous?”

“You’re _jealous?”_ Zayn exclaimed, sounding instantly shocked.

“And it’s stupid and I know I have no right to be jealous because obviously I don’t, like, own you or anything or, like, have a claim on you. But she’s really pretty and she’s got crazy hair and she seems like the kind of girl someone would write a song about, you know? And I feel really immature and kind of stupid about it, but I feel jealous. So.”

“You don’t need to be jealous,” Zayn began. “Not to undermine your feelings, though. But you don’t need to be jealous.”

“But you can pull anyone you want and you both seem like you have a lot in common and it just made me feel weird. And I feel weird because now I made you feel weird. And it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”

“Right.” Zayn heaved a sigh. “Sorry, I’m still wrapping my head around the idea that I made you jealous.”

“I’m sorry. I made this weird.”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t apologize for talking about it, I asked you to tell me. That’s what friends are for. Also it’s kind of adorable, isn’t it.” Zayn grinned quickly.

“Oh shut it with the adorable and the puppy and the cutesy things. I am in fact an adult.”

“A jealous adult. Which is cute, even if you are fully capable of throwing me over your shoulder in a fireman hold like a damn superhero.”

“That’s better.” Liam sighed and slumped back against the sink. “So you don’t want to, like, date her and marry her and have her babies?”

“I hadn’t considered it. I barely know her.”

“She just seems really cool.”

“Do _you_ wanna date her?”

“No.”

“Do you want to date anybody?”

Liam bit his lip. “I don’t know. Yes and no. It’s not fair to drag someone into this bullshit with me until I have it figured out a bit more. If that makes sense.”

Zayn nodded, eyes downcast. Liam noticed he had dark circles under his eyes. He almost looked bruised, and Liam wondered if that was his fault. Liam thought everything might be kind of his fault. He sank his gaze to Zayn’s collarbones, wanting to bite them around the neck of his shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m too fucked up for my own good right now. As I think you can see, given how irrational I’m being.”

“It’s not irrational.”

“It is. I wasn’t going to bring it up because it’s ridiculous. And it’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t want to date her.”

“Do you want to sleep with her?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, Liam.” Zayn’s voice was measured and calm. Somehow this frustrated Liam even more.

“Please don’t let me stand in your way if you do want to, though.”

“Standing in my way? Is that what you think you’re doing?”

He paused. “I, um, I don’t know.”

“You’re not in my way. I’m just gunning straight for _you._ I’m heading toward you. And I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but you need to know that I do like you. And I get that you’re fucked over Danielle and probably still in love with her and I’m not going to push you about that. But I’m not going anywhere but closer to you right now. You’re not in my way. You’re it.”

Liam exhaled sharply and ran one hand over his short hair. “I have no idea what to say to that.”

Zayn nodded. “That’s fine. Let me know if you figure it out, though? Talking is better than not talking.”

“Talking is hard sometimes, for me.”

“It might be easier if you realize that I care what you’re thinking.”

“That makes it harder actually, because I don’t want to hurt your feelings or screw up our friendship.”

“Okay, well, how about it might be easier if we had this conversation somewhere that wasn’t a men’s bathroom?”

“That seems reasonable.”

“Good. Plus Ed’s amazing and I really don’t want to miss the show. Don’t want you to miss it either.” Zayn opened the door and gestured with his head for Liam to lead the way. He grabbed Liam’s hand as he passed, giving it a small squeeze.

When they slunk back into the booth, the club had filled out a bit, getting louder with chatter and laughter and murmuring. Liam kicked Zayn’s shin beneath the table and smiled at him.

“Naw mate, I can totally rap! I’ll kick your arse down the road, I swear to God,” Perrie said, elbowing Niall to show her sincerity.

“I’d believe her if I were you,” Louis added with a nod. “Tiny but fierce, that one. I think she could bench-press Liam if she put her mind to it.”

Perrie reached across the table to fist-bump Louis. “Innit, though.”

Harry then began telling a very long and very winding story about his recent excursion with the Finch children that had all but Louis rolling their eyes. Zayn ordered another round of drinks. Then Perrie asked where they had all gotten their tattoos, as she was planning a half-sleeve of her own and needed recommendations. Liam, who already liked her begrudgingly, finally began to warm to her. He bit back the lingering jealousy and tried to remind himself that he was not an idiot, merely acting like an idiot.

By the time Ed started playing, their entire table was ensconced in a comfortable camaraderie that felt truly genuine. Liam marveled at the wonders alcohol could bring.

He absentmindedly hooked his ankle around Zayn’s leg and settled into the music. Ed was pale with shaggy orange-red hair, and he played the guitar like he was in love with it. Liam had no idea that one person could accomplish so much with just a microphone and a guitar, but at one point Liam found himself on the verge of tearing up.

And sure, some of his songs were cheeky _tell her that I love her, tell her that I need her, tell her that she’s more than a one-night stand…Tell me if you have a toothbrush you don’t mind sharing, she said I wanna take off what you’re wearing…_ and Liam grinned along to the lyrics like the rest of them.

And other times he found himself feeling prickly and warm and a little bit scared, listening to Ed sing _give me love like never before, because lately I’ve been craving more_ and _all I want is the taste that your lips allow_ and he got it. He really got it, and it felt like a punch into his sternum.

 

***  
Louis shoved himself closer to Harry inside the cramped booth and pressed a gentle kiss against his neck. “Hi,” he whispered, trying to gauge his voice so only Harry could hear him but that he could be heard above the clapping. A particularly popular song had just come to an end.

“Hi.”

“He’s really good, you weren’t joking.”

“I rarely joke. I am not at all a bundle of laughs. My mood is entirely tepid. Not warm or bubbly at all.” Harry shot him a bright grin, dimples peppering his cheeks.

“Clearly, that is the world’s most apt description of you.”

Harry shot an eyebrow up and leaned in closer to Louis’ ear. “You reckon Niall’s on the pull tonight? He seems very into Perrie there.”

Louis laughed. “Reckon he’s welcome to try.”

“That’s the theme tonight, is it? He’s welcome to try?”

“Nah mate, Niall’s well cool, I just mean that Perrie’s taken. She’s not on the market.”

“Aw. That’s rather disappointing.”

“A romantic you are not,” Louis said, heaving a laugh. “Yeah she’s dating some guy named Jesse or something.”

“I am too a romantic! I just thought she and Niall might be cute together. That’s all.” Harry shushed him as the next song began, elbowing Louis gently.

They enjoyed the rest of the set and laughed as Niall rushed the stage as soon as Ed was finished. Harry trekked to the bar to get more drinks and Louis watched Liam and Zayn awkwardly flirt with one another.

“You two are hopeless,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Perrie leaned across the table toward him and made a gagging gesture, making Louis laugh again. “Glad you could make it tonight!” he said, eyes brightening. “Really diversifying the bunch, here.”

“Had to get some estrogen up in this bitch,” Perrie agreed, pulling a fake sneer.

“Fair enough. Is Jesse gonna stop by? Not exactly gonna upset the gender differential, but it’d be cool to meet your boyfriend and all. Since we’re gonna be work jockeys together.”

“My boyfriend?” Perrie’s eyebrows knitted together. “Mate, I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick here.”

“Oh you’re not exclusive or whatever? That’s fine too, we’re not a judgey bunch.”

“Right, that’s not it though,” Perrie began, resting her hand on Louis’ upper arm.

“Perrie!” A girl from across the club jumped up and down with a wave and a large smile. She had dusky skin and a heart-shaped face. Her dark hair was long and wavy. She lit up beneath the shifting neon of the club as she strode toward them, and then she swiftly deposited herself on Perrie’s lap before pulling her into a deep kiss.

“Whoa,” Harry said, returning with a handful of drinks. He had a large grin on his face and he was intently watching the two girls kiss.

“I thought you were gay,” Louis pointed out.

“Yeah, but they’re really pretty. They have nice hair.” Harry set the drinks down on the table.

“Give me my drink. Oi, Perrie! Stop sucking face for a minute. Come up for air.” Louis tried to prod Perrie’s arm but was unsuccessful. He saw Zayn give Liam a small smile, which he would definitely need to question later. “So I take it you’re not her boyfriend then?”

Perrie surfaced from the kiss slowly.

“You told them I was a dude?” said the girl still propped on Perrie’s lap.

“Course not, Jesy, I think Louis just kind of assumed. How very heteronormative of you!”

“Hey, sorry and all, but I didn’t know how her name was spelled. It could be a guy’s name!” Louis defended himself.

“I suppose,” Jesy mused, quirking her full lips. “I take it you’re Louis?” She stuck her hand out. “Heard so much about you, Captain Tightpants.”

Louis made a round of introductions and took a long draw from his pint. Jesy curled into Perrie’s shoulder and said, “You’re right, Pezzy, they all are rather stupidly good-looking.”

“Jezebel, really. There are some things we just keep to ourselves!” Perrie laughed loudly to show she was joking.

Niall and Ed galloped their way to the table and pulled up chairs to join the group. “Shit, am I some sort of gay magnet? How in the world do I attract so many of the same-sex inclined?”

“I think the point is that you don’t attract them,” Ed replied, running a wide hand through his ginger hair. “Or, at least, they’re not attracted to you?” Everyone snorted at this pronouncement, even Niall.

“Mate! The show was brilliant, as always!” Harry said, bouncing slightly in his seat. “How many bras got thrown on stage tonight, eh?”

“Just the one, sadly.” Ed feigned a melancholy that lasted mere moments. “Noticed I didn’t get you out of your boxers this time, dear Harry.”

“No means no, Ed. I take rejection very seriously.” Harry grabbed Louis’ hand while simultaneously taking a sip of his drink.

“I see. You just want me for my guitar.”

“Kind of, actually. She’s a beautiful instrument,” Harry conceded.

“You call your guitar a she?” Perrie asked from beneath Jesy’s torso and hair.

“The one I played tonight. Not all of them. They’re individuals, after all.” Ed shrugged and snagged a glass off the table and chugged its contents. “So, let’s introduce ourselves.”

Everyone went around the table and shared their names, exhibiting various forms of inebriation. Niall eventually plopped down on a chair near Ed and they continued drinking.

Louis repeatedly elbowed Harry whenever he saw him glancing at Perrie and Jest curiously. “You’re kind of staring, you realize.”

“I really like Perrie’s hair.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Do you think if I got blue streaks in mine, it would bring out the color of my eyes?”

“I’m not sure anything could make your eyes greener, mate. Sorry.”

“That’s not a very supportive thing for my date to say.” Harry pouted slightly, managing to look even more kitten-like than he usually did.

“No, I mean they’re already the perfect shade, right? Don’t fuck with perfection.”

“That’s fairly poetic, actually. That one’ll do.”

“Honestly you wouldn’t want to hear any poetry I’d manage to write about your eyes. It’d contain an embarrassing number of references to green grass, or emeralds, or like, grapes or something.”

“Aw.” Harry feigned disappointment.

“Sorry. You deserve someone who can write you poetry.” Louis shrugged and quirked his lips slightly.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Harry rolled his eyes and took a pull from his drink.

“Well. You might deserve poetry, but I’ve been able to deepthroat for quite a while, if that salvages anything.”

Harry spluttered, coughing beer onto the table and onto his shirt. “Oh my god. You are literally the perfect human being.”

Louis preened. “I know.”

***  
The group ended up stumbling to a late-night bar near the club, where they ordered many more drinks and began a competitive game of darts. Liam kept Zayn close by his side but his jealousy was a great deal more quelled than it had been.

“You do realize how hilarious this is, right? This is some romantic comedy type thing here,” Zayn said as he and Liam queued at the bar for more drinks. “Miscommunication, jealousy the funny best friend. Now all we need to someone falling down in an embarrassing manner.”

“You joke, but Louis loves those kinds of movies. If he thought he could get away with it, he would compile a meaningful and heartfelt soundtrack to his life and play it whenever something important happened,” Liam answered, rolling his eyes. “He tried to mandate that a theme song accompany his entrance into our flat and I threatened to kick him in the kneecap.”

“None of that surprises me at all.” Zayn paid for their drinks and handed Liam’s back. “Still can’t believe I made you jealous. You’re ridiculous.”

“Why am I ridiculous? It’s not that uncommon to be jealous and I have eyeballs and am able to see when people are flirting.” Liam led the way to the back of the bar where their group was gathered.

“That’s kind of just how my face looks.”

“What, lecherous?”

“Is that a fancy way of saying my face looks slutty? Because if so, I resent that.”

“No, but you do the whole look-up-and-down, stare-at-the-ass, beat-your-chest male thing.”

“I do?”

“You did when you met Perrie.”

“Wow. I should keep a lid on that. It makes me sound like kind of a dick.”

“What does?” Louis called from his spot next to the jukebox.

“Staring at girls’ asses!” Zayn proclaimed back, over the din of the bar.

“Oh. You can stare at mine instead. But don’t touch unless I say you can!” Louis offered.

“No touching!” Harry wrapped both his arms and one leg around Louis’ frame, clinging on like a small monkey might if he were possessing the body of an adult male.

“I’m not moving in on your man, Styles, calm your balls.” Zayn rolled his eyes.

“Objectification of people should definitely go both ways, as far as I’m concerned,” Perrie added. “Because fuck the patriarchy, for starters, and also because people are pretty.”

“I’m pretty!” Jesy called, throwing a dart at the board before spinning around triumphantly.

“Yes you are, darling.” Perrie patted Jesy’s hair.

“Too much coupling!” Niall yelled, pounding his fist onto the table in front of him.

“You lot are gross,” Ed agreed.

Niall scooped up a bowl of peanuts and began throwing them at Louis, who laughed and managed to catch most of them in his mouth.

“I wanna play!” Harry pounced on a nearby table to grab more peanuts. “Liam, open up.”

Liam did so obediently, and then yelped when Harry hit him in the eye with a peanut.

“Sorry.”

“You’re a bit of a menace, Harry,” Zayn said, doubled over in laughter. Harry chucked a handful of peanuts at Zayn’s head before their group was unceremoniously kicked out of the bar.

“My place isn’t too far from here. Let’s keep drinking!” Niall whooped, thrusting a fist into the air. They followed him in a typical drunken stumble, arms wrapped around whomever was closest at the time.

“Oi, don’t pinch my tummy,” Louis squealed when Liam’s fingers bit into his side. Louis shoved him away roughly.

“Can’t help it, you make it too easy.”

“What, by trusting you enough to walk nearby?”

“No, by getting so indig—indig—by getting so upset when I pinch you. Obviously.” Liam let out a small “oof” when Niall jumped on his back, but he managed to hold on and not fall.

“I demand piggybacks!” he yelled right into Liam’s ear.

“Tonto, jump on it!” Perrie added with a bright laugh.

“Hi-ho Silver, away!” Niall retorted, prodding Liam’s shoulder to get him moving.

The group half-galloped the rest of the way to Niall’s apartment before Liam dropped him flat on his ass at the bottom of the stair. Everyone trundled their way up the stairs and deposited themselves in various spots around his living room.

Niall and Harry grabbed drinks from the kitchen as Harry tried to convince him not to engage in a rapping duel with Ed. “You always lose, though! And it makes you sad.”

“One of these days, I am definitely going to defeat him. It’s inevitable.” Niall entered the living room with a case of beer and a worried-looking Harry, whose arms were empty.

“Face it, he has the fastest tongue in all of England.” Harry popped open a bottle of beer and handed it to Niall.

“He does?” Perrie’s head snapped up. “Dirty!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“They’re right on both counts, though,” Ed said with a humble smile.

Zayn groaned. “He brags a lot when he’s drunk.”

“So, then, half your waking hours are made up of drunken bragging?” Harry asked in an amused tone of voice.

“And the rest is just Nando’s, guitar, and getting my heart broken, pretty much,” Ed replied forlornly.

“Aww,” Jesy cooed, stepping closer to Ed and offering him a hug.

“It’s a trap!” Louis called, waving his arms dramatically. “He’s trying to lure you away from the clutches of lesbianism with his poetic charms and fiery mop of hair! Don’t do it!”

Jesy shot Perrie a quizzical look over Ed’s shoulder. “I wasn’t aware he was going to be quite this dramatic, Pezza,” she stated as she disentangled herself from Ed’s arms.

“Never underestimate me,” Louis replied warningly.

“I’m not trying to seduce anyone tonight, okay? I just want to bask in the afterglow of a fantastic show,” Ed promised.

“I challenge you to a duel!” Niall shouted as Harry moaned in consternation.

“Oh, me too! I wanna join.” Perrie clapped her hands together once.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Louis muttered, shaking his head. “You three are probably the whitest people I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

Zayn cackled and sat on the couch next to Liam. “You gonna do backing beatboxing, then?” He nudged Liam gently.

“If they tell me what songs they’re doing, sure.”

They crowded together in the living room and Perrie volunteered to go first, standing in front of their huddled semi-circle. She performed a heartily respectable version of _No Diggity_ the impact of which was belied by Jesy’s constant, raucous laughter. The group cheered when she curtsied and fell into Jesy’s lap.

“Well done, babes.” Jesy planted a kiss on Perrie’s brow.

Niall stood up next and consulted with Liam before clearing his throat. “My money’s on him attempting the theme from _The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air._ It’s like one of the two things he can rap.”

Harry was correct about Niall’s choice. It was obvious that Niall loved the lyrics, as he had a difficult time keeping his laughter in check. When he finished, he chinned his beer and let out a spectacular belch.

Ed went last, and he chose to sing with his guitar rather than with Liam because he was “trying out some new material” and wanted to see how it sounded with just his guitar. Liam shrugged and settled against Zayn’s arm, feeling just tipsy enough to be warm and lazy.

He listened to Ed intently, startled at the speed with which he could rap. “This is why Niall always loses,” Zayn whispered. “Ed literally does this for a living.”

“Nothing if not persistent,” Liam murmured back.

Ed’s performance ended with a particularly impressive “They say I’m up-and-coming like I’m fucking an elevator,” and they all dissolved into laughter.

“That’s brilliant! That should be your next single,” Niall cheered, clapping Ed on the back.

“Not really anything like my other songs though, innit?”

“That’s what’s so fun about it,” Harry insisted.

“I’ll consider it I guess. Thanks guys.”

Niall started up a playlist of songs he had recently mixed and then offered everyone more beer. Liam yawned quietly and Niall shot him a sharp look. “You’re all welcome to sleep here, but I have one rule: No one’s allowed to have sex in my bed unless they’re having it with me.”

***  
“Hey,” Louis whispered into the breaking light of morning. “Hey!” He roughly shook Liam’s shoulder. “Leem, come on, I need you.” He bit his bottom lip hard enough to taste metal on the tip of his tongue.

Liam roused slightly and blinked. “Wassit?”

“Can I borrow your car? There’s a family thing, my sisters are poorly and my mom really needs me and—”

“Course.” Liam shuffled upwards on the sofa and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was careful not to disturb Zayn, who was lying prone on the other end of the sofa. “Let me grab my jacket and we’ll go get the keys.” His voice trailed off as he blinked sleep out of his eyes.

“No, mate, that’s fine. You have work later today anyway.”

“Louis,” Liam said in warning tones.

“All the girls are home and with me there visiting and the girls feeling ill it’ll be a full house. A full, cranky house. I’ll call if anything—I’ll call you if I need you.” Louis shuffled his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Call me when you get there. I’ll take the train down once you remember how much your mum and sisters love me.”

“I love you too, Li.” Louis ducked down and kissed Liam’s forehead. “Tell the rest where I went?” He rubbed Liam’s bristly short hair for luck.

“Even Harry? I’m not kissing him with tongue, you know. Not even for you.”

“He’s walking me home.”

“Good. Love you.”


	10. The Vice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis heads home and Harry accompanies him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH CUTE AHHHHH I'm dying here xx

“I can come with you. I want to, honestly,” Harry said, grabbing Louis’ hand roughly in his own. “I know a bunch of car games!”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Louis replied. “And before you say, _you didn’t ask but I’m offering,_ remember that I know you have to work on Monday.”

“It’s Saturday morning!”

“Don’t waste your time on me. I’ve been dragging you around all of London for ages. You could, like, do some coursework or something.”

“And if I promise to read aloud to you in the car so you can help me study while also saying you’re an idiot if you think spending time with you is a waste?”

“I just.” Louis paused, gently removing his hand from Harry’s. “This is perhaps kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

“I’m keeping you company on a car ride and sleeping on your family’s couch and making soup. I am excellent at making soup, if you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know. I suppose I don’t know much about you.”

“Well you have a long car-ride to get to know me, don’t you?”

“Haz.” Louis took a long, deep breath. “Don’t come with me if you’re not—I mean. You know what it means if you come with me right now, don’t you? It’s different than if Liam came with me. This wouldn’t be the same.”

“Yeah.” Harry gave him a slow, bright smile. “I’m serious. Liam’s your friend and your flatmate, and I’m someone you’ve genuinely thought about getting off with.”

Louis blushed. “Shut it.”

“Fine. I’ve thought about getting off with you. But I also like talking with you and kissing you and holding your hand.” Harry reached over to Louis, grabbing his wrist with his oversized fist.

“I ruin things, you know. Like, most things. Most relationships.”

“Your mother called to ask you to come home so you could help her with your ill sisters. That totally screams of you fucking everything up. You’re obviously a shit brother.”

“Stop,” Louis said with genuine emotion. “I don’t see my sisters enough as it is. Please don’t talk about it right now.”

“I’m going with you, Lou.”

“And if I said no?”

“I’d obviously take a cab, follow behind you, and make your mum love me so much she’d give me your bed every time I decide to visit.”

Louis groaned. “And where am I meant to sleep then?”

“With me, clearly. You’ll sneak in next to me. Your mum will try to make you take the couch but you’ll obviously sneak up to your room once we think everyone’s asleep.”

“Oh my god. Stop, please.”

“I won’t stop until you promise me I can come with you.”

“Come with me?” Louis said with a dirty leer.

“Right, poorly phrased. I won’t stop teasing you until you tell me that I’m allowed to accompany you on your trip home. To visit your family. Your ill family.”

Louis breathed in and out slowly. “Okay. But, but just for a couple of days. You have work and class. And my family’s not your responsibility.”

“Please shut it, Lou.”

“Okay.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Not really, though. You’re kind of a fairy-tale princess with dimples and curls and pretty eyes.”

“All the more reason for me to come with you and help you accomplish, like, whatever needs accomplishing. I have skills.”

“What? Like, magic?” He squeezed Harry’s hand.

“Nah, can’t do magic off Hogwarts grounds, duh.”

“Remind me again that you’re an adult and not an oversized child?”

“Oh look, we have arrived at your flat. Let’s retrieve the car keys and pack a bag of only your tightest trousers and t-shirts.”

“Shit, you don’t have any extra clothes,” Louis muttered as he pulled a key-ring from his pocket. “We need to—”

“I plan on wearing yours.”

Louis dropped his keys before they were even in the lock, turning on his heel to cover Harry’s face with feather-light kisses. Harry just laughed and turned Louis around by his shoulders before picking up the dropped keys. “Easy now, lovebug. We have car-keys to fetch.”

Harry rummaged through the kitchen for what he termed “snacks on snacks on snacks” while Louis threw a few articles of clothing into a duffle. Then Harry hustled him out the door with a kiss to his temple and a hand in the small of his back.

***  
After Louis and Harry left Niall’s flat, Liam extricated himself from the sofa and crept into the kitchen to make tea. He felt a little fuzzy and disoriented, cherishing the calm heat of the teacup in his hand. He moved to sit at the table before thumbing through his phone to send a few messages, then he opened his browser.

Zayn’s entrance into the kitchen startled him. He offered up his cup of tea with a smile. “Morning.”

“Thanks,” Zayn said, taking the mug from him and sitting down. He sipped the tea slowly.

“Louis and Harry left a bit ago. Louis’ sisters aren’t feeling well so he’s driving down to help his mum out.” Liam rubbed a hand roughly across the back of his own neck.

Zayn nodded, eyebrows furrowing into a small V in the center of his forehead. “You okay?”

“Just a bit worried. It’s silly, I suppose.”

Zayn reached across the tabletop to press his thumb against Liam’s wrist. “He can take care of it.”

“He takes care of everyone, though.”

“He’s got Harry, too.”

“I suppose.”

Zayn handed Liam the mug. “It’s going to be okay. Drink your tea.”

***

Louis pulled into the lot of a Tesco and roused Harry, who was dozing in the passenger seat. “We’re almost there, I just wanted to stop off quick to get some supplies.”

Harry stretched, baring a strip of skin just above the button of his jeans. “Yessir. Soup and squash and lozenges.” They clambered out of the car and into the store. Harry grabbed a basket and headed purposefully toward the soup and pasta aisle, Louis trailing behind him. “What kind of soups do your sisters like most?”

“My mum said they’re having trouble keeping food down, so we might need to stick to just broth for starters.” Louis pulled a carton of chicken broth off the shelf and eyed its label.

Harry nodded and hooked his arm through Louis’ own. They walked the shop arm-in-arm, collecting broth, ibuprofen, ginger ale, and saltines. Harry only let go of Louis’ arm to rummage through a bin of on-sale movies. “Must find Nemo,” he muttered, flinging DVDs about haphazardly.

Louis laughed and pulled a copy of _Love Actually_ from the bin. “I require this movie.”

“Surprised you don’t already own that.”

“I do own it. I have like four copies of it in various locations. Probably have one in the boot of Liam’s car.”

Harry ruffled Louis’ hair. “Nemo’s more kid-friendly.”

“True.” Louis looked towards the registers and began spluttering. “Oh, fuck. Don’t look now,” he muttered angrily.

“What’s up?” Harry’s head swiveled side to side.

“Ex. Ugh.”

“Which one? Secret-girlfriend one or the cheater?”

“Secret girlfriend. Working the fourth till.” Louis inclined his chin in Stan’s direction. Harry slipped his hand around Louis’ wrist and clamped down hard. “Didn’t know he still worked here.”

“Fucker,” Harry growled, eyes darkening. His jaw clenched as he eyed Stan. He looked slightly predatory. Louis’ lips teased up in a smile. He felt anchored by the nearly-painful grip Harry had on his wrist. Possessiveness was something he understood and participated in perhaps too frequently. He pulled Harry toward him gently. He was unused to someone else being possessive towards him—that hadn’t happened in ages.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Harry leaned his cheek against Louis’ head. “You traded up, if I may say so myself,” he murmured, voice ragged.

Louis’ laugh was bright and tinkly over the relative quiet of the shop. He saw Stan’s head snap up in recognition, cheeks reddening. Louis laughed again and Harry pulled him into a fierce hug.

“I like this side of you,” Louis said, pulling away and slotting himself under one of Harry’s arms. “Someone remembered to pack his angry eyes.”

“Don’t quote _Toy Story_ at me when I’m trying to make someone jealous of how fit my boyfriend is,” Harry retorted, throwing Stan one stray glance before pulling Louis down the biscuit aisle.

“Did you just mark your territory in the middle of a Tesco?” Louis asked, trailing behind Harry.

“Shit, sorry.” Harry stopped in front of a shelf of Digestives. “I do that sometimes. I get a little…”

“Possessive?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He shrugged and turned toward Louis.

“It’s okay. But it merits a conversation, yeah? The boyfriend thing. If you want me to be your boyfriend.”

Harry nodded, looking earnest. “I was gonna ask you this weekend anyway. Figured a trip to meet the family meant something pretty similar.”

“Yeah. That’s the message it sends.”

“So what kind of biscuits does my boyfriend want me to bring his little sisters?” Harry asked with a grin, turning back to the shelf.

“Something covered in chocolate.” Louis slipped his hand into Harry’s bigger one.

“Can I cover you in chocolate sometime?” Harry whispered, dipping his mouth close to Louis’ ear.

“Not in my childhood home, for the love of _God,”_ Louis answered with a laugh.

“Aw really?” Harry’s voice was tinged with genuine disappointment.

“Yes, really. Are you serious, though? About this?”

“Of course,” Harry said simply. “Wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

“Fuck. My mom’s gonna love you.”

“That’s the plan.”

They made their way to the registers, carefully avoiding Stan’s till as Harry muttered dark threats that made Louis laugh. Then they threaded their way back to Liam’s car and drove the well-worn path to Louis’ old house. He opened the windows to the breeze, catching the familiar scent of home.

Jay threw open the front door before Louis could even put the car into park. “My favorite son!” she called, stepping onto the porch.

Louis grabbed the Tesco bags and got out of the car, watching Harry disentangle his long legs and get out of the passenger door. Then he dashed toward his mother and wrapped her into a tight hug.

“He’s even cuter than you said on the phone,” she whispered, laughing beneath his grasp.

“God, mum, really. Behave.” He pulled away and threw Harry a look over his shoulder.

“I will if you do,” she promised. “You must be Harry!”

Harry loped up the steps and launched himself into a deep hug with Jay. “So nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Sweetie, my name’s Jay.” She arched a brow and shot Louis a meaningful look.

Louis cast his mother an appraising glance. She’d lost weight since he last saw her, and her cheeks looked a bit hollow. She had purplish circles under her eyes, but her smile was genuine and bright.

“Right, okay.” Harry pulled back and clapped his hands once. “We’re here to help. Where are the patients?”

“Daisy and Phoebe are zonked out in front of the telly, Lottie’s grousing in the downstairs loo, and Fizzie’s asleep upstairs.” Jay led them back into the house, and Louis nearly tripped over a large wicker basket at the foot of the stairs. It was covered in multicolored cellophane that crinkled when Louis accidentally nudged it with his foot.

“What’s that?”

“Hm?” Jay glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, that arrived just before you did, I haven’t looked at it yet. Just opened the card.”

Harry bent down to pick it up, then followed Louis and Jay into the kitchen. “Seems to be full of painkillers, cough medicines, flu remedies, a heating pad, and teddy bears. Actually two teddy bears. And a bottle of brandy.”

Jay laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Liam. Always so good at looking after the girls.”

“I think the brandy’s probably for you, mum,” Louis pointed out, prodding the basket gently. He set the grocery bags down on the table.

“Well I’m taking one of the paracetamol too. I spent all night rubbing the twins’ backs as they took turns vomming.” Jay scrubbed her eyes with one hand

“Go take a nap.” Louis nudged his mother’s shoulders. “We brought soup and saltines and biscuits. And ginger ale. So I’d say between all of us we have a fully stocked pantry for caretaking the ill and infirm.” He removed the cellophane from the basket and handed his mother the paracetamol.

“In a perfect world we would also have Nemo, but he eluded us,” Harry say apologetically.

“He has a tendency to do that. Wake me up in two hours or so, okay? I don’t want to throw my sleep schedule off too much.”

“Can do. We’ll hold down the fort.”

Jay ambled out of the kitchen and upstairs.

“Dismantle the basket while I check on the girls?” Louis asked. Harry nodded and began pulling items out of the wicker, humming quietly to himself. Louis ducked forward and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek, eliciting a sharp grin that made his chest hurt.

***  
Liam and Zayn were planted firmly in the latter’s bed, both shirtless, with Zayn licking a long stripe up Liam’s chest. “Christ, your abs,” Zayn muttered, biting down gently. “They’re ridiculous.”

Liam’s phone buzzed from somewhere beneath his own head and he grunted unattractively, fishing it out to peer at the screen. “Sorry, it’s my mum. We’ve been playing phone-tag for a week. Do you mind? She basically just needs to hear my voice so she knows I’m alive.”

Zayn stuttered a laugh. “That’s all right.” He rolled sideways and laid his head on Liam’s chest.

“Mum, hi,” Liam said, trying to make his breath sound even.

“How are you?”

“Fine, yeah, I’m fine.”

Zayn made a low rumbling noise that vibrated into Liam’s chest.

On the other end of the line, his mother made a concerned humming noise that indicated she did not believe he was fine. He heard her sniffle quietly, a sound she only made when she was trying not to cry.

“What’s wrong?”

“So you and Danielle broke up, then?”

“Mum,” he responded in low tones. “It’s for the best. It wasn’t working out.”

Zayn pressed his palm gently onto Liam’s sternum, causing him to suck in a deep breath.

“You two were so sweet together,” she maintained, voice catching in the back of her throat.

“Not by the end. Really, it’s a good thing. We’re better off.”

“Did something happen? I just don’t understand,” she murmured, voice sounding painful through the phone.

“Honestly, mum, it’s not like we were going to get married,” Liam replied, slightly exasperated. Zayn glanced up at him, and he shrugged, pulling an apologetic face. “It was just a matter of time.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that? Or convince me?”

Liam paused, struck silent. “Um.”

His phone beeped, and he pulled it away from his ear to look at the screen.

“Um. Mum, can I call you back in a few hours? Louis’ on the other line and his sisters are poorly and he said he’d call to check in with me. I’ll call you soon. I promise. Love you.”

“Wish him well for me. Love you.”

Liam clicked over to the other line. “Lou, how are the girls?”

“Cranky but on the mend, mostly. No one’s vomited since I got here, at least,” Louis responded with a note of amusement in his voice. “Thanks for the care package.”

“Least I could do, mate.” He heard a distant _Tell Liam I say hi!_ from the background.

“Harry says hi.”

“Glad he tagged along after all,” Liam said with a smile in Zayn’s direction. Zayn, for his part, rolled his eyes. Liam was momentarily distracted, entranced by the shallow dip in Zayn’s clavicle.

Louis groaned in understanding. “Oh my god, you convinced him to come with me, didn’t you?”

“No, he just asked me if I thought it was a good idea for him to go with you. Which it is. Taking care of five people is a lot of work! You know you’re glad he’s there with you, don’t deny it.”

“It just feels weird to get tricked into introducing my boyfriend to the family,” Louis muttered.

Liam sat upright so quickly he saw stars. He pressed his eyelids shut. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Louis said sheepishly. “Boyfriend.”

“Thank God!” Liam replied triumphantly as Zayn sat up beside him.

“Finally,” Zayn agreed.

“Yeah, it’s a story for the ages. Happened in the middle of the biscuit aisle in Tesco just after I spotted Stan at the register.”

“Ugh Stan still works there? Did you punch him for me?” Liam lay back down, throwing an arm around Zayn in the process.

“No need. Harry did his possessive spider-monkey routine and it worked like a charm.” Liam nodded through the phone even though he knew Louis couldn’t see him. “Hey, Pheebs is awake. Cool if I put her on? She wants to say thanks for the bear.”

***  
“Okay, the twins are asleep, Fizzie’s half-comatose in front of the computer, and Lottie just started a film,” Jay announced into the kitchen, where Harry and Louis were doing the washing-up.

“We’ve got this,” Harry said confidently. “Oh, and this is for you,” he added, handing her a cup of Yorkshire tea.

“I might have spiked it,” Louis warned her.

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly.” But she planted a kiss on Louis’ cheek and ruffled Harry’s hair. “Thanks, you two.”

As she left the room, Louis hip-checked Harry gently. “Thanks from me too, obviously.”

“Course. I’m very persuasive.”

“And fit.” Louis ran a soapy sponge over some cutlery.

“If you say so,” Harry replied in a sing-song voice, placing a dish in the drying rack.

“Also, since my mum has yet to turn my old room into a sewing nook, I’m going to need you to hurry up so we can feign sleepiness and do unmentionable things on my superhero bedsheets.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

Louis bodily yanked Harry out of the kitchen and up the stairs, and they stumbled into Louis’ room in a haze of quiet laughter. Harry nudged the door shut with his hip and crowded Louis backward against it, locking the knob like he’d done it one-thousand times before.

Part of Louis wished he had known Harry during his horrible, confusing adolescence—that he’d had an anchor to keep him steady during the insanity and confusion—yet a bigger part of him knew he’d have cocked everything up if he’d known Harry before now. Once piece of his alert subconscious knew he had never been ready for someone like Harry until _now._

“Come here,” he said, pulling Louis closer with a strong hand to his hips.

“We have to keep our voices down, you know.”

“Right. Mustn’t disturb the patients.”

“Also my mum’s downstairs.”

“I’m gonna err on the side of not being gagged, because I want to kiss you.” Harry’s mouth ghosted over Louis’ jaw and he pressed his lips in slightly, cautiously.

“Oh my god. How do you even get away with saying things like that?” Louis grabbed the hem of Harry’s shirt with desperation, tugging at it.

“Because I make good on my promises.” Harry peppered kisses along Louis’ neck. “Not so sure you’ll be able to keep quiet though.”

“Guess you’ll have to see.”

At this, Harry groaned and bucked forward slightly, pressing Louis even harder into the door.

“Hey, you claimed you could be quiet,” Louis reminded him in a sharp whisper. “And that you can keep your promises.”

“That was a quiet groan,” Harry retorted, licking into Louis’ ear before biting down on his cartilage.

“You’re a bloody menace.”

“I know.” Harry wedged one of his legs in between Louis’ own, grinding their pelvises together. “But then, so are you.”

Louis arched forward, arse pressed roughly against the door and spine a perfect C. “Who, little old me? You flatter.” Louis considered for a moment. “Forget I called myself little.”

“In any sense of the word?”

“Ever. At all.”

Harry immediately palmed Louis’ dick through his jeans, eliciting a similar response from the latter. Louis’ fingers dugs in mercilessly.

"Fu—” Harry began, stuttering against Louis' collarbone. "Bed. Beds are quieter than doors." He backed their bodies across the room slowly, careful that neither of them fell over.

"Not sure my old bed's that quiet. Noisy springs and all." Louis set them both down carefully onto the mattress, bouncing just slightly as he did so.

"Shit. Are you trying to make this sound less sexy? Because it's not quite working." Harry rolled them so they lay side-to-side, facing one another.

"Rusty springs really do it for you, eh? I'll keep it in mind," Louis added, biting a deep, merciless mark into Harry's neck.

Harry hissed, clearly enjoying the deep pressure of teeth along his skin. "If you want me to be quiet..." His voice trailed off.

"Just mostly. So no one can hear but me."

"You want to hear me?"

"Every word," Louis promised.

"Please, please, Lou."

"Please what?"

"Touch me. Everywhere, anywhere. Just, now."

"I live to serve." He placed a hand on Harry's hip and kneaded in with his palm, snagging his fingers on the denim fabric.

Harry opened his mouth in a tiny moan, bucking his body forward. Louis' fingers flew to Harry's fly, undoing the button and zip, yanking his pants and trousers down in one quick motion. He instantly wrapped his hand around Harry's cock, running the pad of his thumb over the head. Then he stroked languidly, giving Harry a lazy smile.

"You're kind of a tease, you know that?"

"Absolutely. Building my career on it actually," Louis replied as he slowly moved his hand up and down over Harry's hardening length. He intermittently ran his thumb over the head of Harry's cock, eliciting small inhalations.

"Too slow. C'mon, please," Harry begged quietly. "Faster."

Louis grinned, pumping just as slowly as he had been, but then he dipped lower to take the head of Harry's dick into his mouth. This garnered him a small whimper—a goddamn _whimper,_ Louis was so fucked—and made Louis move quicker, licking eagerly.

His mouth popped off Harry's cock and he said, "Whatever you say."

"Oh my god." Harry shoved his eyes into the crook of his own elbow and bit his lip over yet another whimper. His fingers fluttered into Louis' hair, toying with his fringe haltingly. "God, just." Harry hissed and his hips thrust upward to meet Louis's lips.

Louis, who hadn't been joking about his deepthroating abilities, took Harry in eagerly, quelling his gag reflex. He bobbed forward slightly, though it was barely necessary with the way Harry was violently thrusting between his lips.

"That— _thattherethat,"_ Harry stuttered, nodding robotically.

Louis repeated his bobbing and pumping, wondering if Harry could feel the smile playing at his lips. Probably not.

Harry's breath sped up with Louis' movements, echoing him in time. "Yes," he whispered, tugging gently at Louis' hair. Louis hummed and ran his fist down the base of Harry's shaft, forgetting everything but here-now-this-yes.

"So close," Harry warned, shoving an ineffectual palm against Louis' shoulder. "Fuck."

He shuddered long and hard as he came, curling involuntarily forward and gritting his teeth audibly. Louis swallowed him down, loosening and tightening his throat until Harry was fully spent.

Harry ran his thumb along Louis' jaw, rubbing his stubble and pressing against his skin. "Ungh,” he groaned in a low voice, gone breathless and raw. “You're amazing." He curled further into Louis, heavy and slow after his orgasm.

“And you’re fantastic,” Louis countered, trying to edge his voice with genuine awe.

Harry shook his head, smiling slowly. “Don’t play it off, Lou,” he said, voice low and rumbling. 

“Hey,” Louis growled, dipping his lips low to bite Harry’s neck. “I’m not. Not at all.” He snuffled slightly against Harry’s skin. “You really are fantastic.”

“Glad I came, then?”

“In every sense of the word.”


	11. The Devil's Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silliness and some sex and some serious conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for gay slur (mentioned as happened in the past!). Just wanted to alert everyone in case this is an issue.
> 
> Let me know what you think, lovelies! xx

Early the next morning, Louis prodded Harry’s cheek gently with a forefinger. “Tea.” He set two cups down on the bedside table and clambered back into bed.

Harry stretched with a small groan then curled into Louis’ side languidly. “You are literally the perfect human.”

Louis laughed. “Tell Phoebe that. She nearly puked at the sight of me just now.”

“That’s flu talking, you know it’s nothing personal.”

“Well as long as you refrain from vomiting at the sight of me, I’ll consider my ego soothed.”

Harry hummed, pressing his mouth into the crook of Louis’ neck. “Does your ego need stroked, do you think?” He palmed at Louis’ pelvis, eliciting a bright laugh.

“How the hell do you get away with saying shit like that?”

“It’s the dimples.”

“You’re a menace, you are.”

“I’ve been told.”

“Yeah, well, I’m terrible at being quiet and also my mother is downstairs making breakfast for my sweet and innocent-looking boyfriend. You’ve won her over.”

Harry barked a laugh. “What, already?”

“Apparently she really likes gangly giraffes who read stories to her daughters in the middle of the night.”

“Imagine that,” Harry replied, all innocence and light.

“You’re a master manipulator. You are worming your way into my family’s collective heart! You will leave us sad and crying into our ice-cream pints.”

“You’re not getting rid of me, I’ll have you know.” Harry pulled on Louis’ earlobe. “I’ve got my hooks in you now! Next we have to get matching tattoos, you realize.”

Louis batted Harry’s hand away lazily. “I’m sorry, you may be stupidly good-looking but I am not getting your face inked onto my arse cheek. That’s just not going to fly.”

“No. Just a nice little H,” Harry countered. “Right here.” He jabbed his finger into the crook of Louis’ elbow.

Louis’ breath went shallow, and his tongue tasted of dirty coins and the sip he’d taken of Harry’s tea. This was unreal and impossible and it was definitely not happening, Louis tried to tell himself. Harry was certainly going to turn around one day, laugh in Louis’ face for every being foolish enough to think he was good enough for someone so beautiful. Surely— _surely_ it was inevitable. It was only a matter of when.

But maybe that was okay. Maybe Louis could be okay with hanging on for just a little while before everything came to a natural, crashing conclusion. Maybe he could be okay with burning out like a dying star.

He hid his face in Harry’s shoulder before sitting up decisively. “Drink your tea.” He grabbed the cup from the side table and snagged a chewed-up biro without a second thought. He uncapped it as Harry took the tea. Louis stretched out Harry’s other arm and drew a harsh little L—dark black and shining—against the skin there.

“Mine. Mine now.”

***  
“You’re being a moody little shit, you know,” Zayn said to Liam, smirk evident in the tone of his voice. They had spent the evening in bed and had tentative plans not to leave it until the late the next afternoon.

“Me? I’m not the one who stares longingly into the distance while smoking on fire-escapes, thinking about how God is dead.”

Zayn bit his lips over a laugh and rolled to straddle Liam’s lap. “Did you honestly just quote Nietzsche in bed? After talking to your mom _and then Louis_ on the phone mostly naked?”

“What?” Liam responded, pouting out his lower lip. “I can’t have layers?”

“You can. But you shouldn’t _wear_ layers, because I can’t lick your abs when you’ve got a shirt on.”

“What is your fascination with my abs, anyway?”

“They’re fun to prod.” Zayn pressed his thumbs into the hard muscles over Liam’s ribs. “I dunno, I’m not built the way you are. Not used to it.”

“You’re sharp, aren’t you? Cut, like. And lean.”

Liam saw Zayn’s cheekbones and collarbones and shoulder-blades as Zayn probably never could—he saw them as devastating guillotines, capable of cutting him in two. Liam was convinced his very flesh could split beneath Zayn’s bony fingers and sharp jaw. Liam himself was heavy as a punching-bag, all dead weight and wide shoulders. Zayn was lithe like a stiletto straight to the sternum, cracking him wide open.

“Do you ever do anything besides fuck, study, and exercise?” Zayn asked breathlessly.

“You want to know my exercise regimen?”

“Oh, and you sometimes deign to cover yourself in motor oil, I guess.”

“Zayn,” Liam replied in low tones, voice gone serious.

“You’re going to give me a complex!” He curled his face downward, curving his spine up into an arch. He planted his lips onto Liam’s shoulder.

“Hey,” came Liam’s immediate response. “Hey now. Please don’t do that to yourself.”

“Do what?” Zayn said, voice gone innocent and shy near Liam’s ear. “I don’t do anything.”

“Don’t talk shit about yourself. Not just because it’s a damn lie, but also because the way you sound when you say that is killing me.”

Zayn was silent for a long moment before pulling backward slightly. “What the hell?”

Liam felt his heart thump painfully against the underside of his ribs. “It’s true,” he insisted. “You talk such bullshit about yourself.”

“Pot, kettle much?” Zayn blew a raspberry into Liam’s jaw.

“Yeah, we’re a full fucking kitchen set right now, apparently. You’re fantastic, and if you say otherwise I’ll—I’ll pull your hair until you stop it.”

“What, and that’s an incentive to stop saying shit?” Zayn responded instantly, snuffling his lips and chin and irresistible stubble against Liam’s exposed throat.

“Oh,” Liam breathed. “You like that then?”

“Thought it was a bit obvious.”

Liam rumbled low in his throat. “What else do you like?”

“Probably anything you could think up, really. You’re surprisingly imaginative.”

“Hey!” Liam jostled his shoulders against Zayn’s.

“No, I just mean, you have this wholesome like—”

“Wholesome?” Liam squawked, bucking his hips upward into Zayn’s arse. “I resent that!”

“Okay not wholesome, fine, ow!” Zayn retorted as Liam bit his bicep. “But like, good, okay, good, ow, stop biting me unless you mean it!”

Liam removed his lips from Zayn’s arm. “Of course I mean it.” He huffed a loud sigh. “You said you liked my imagination, after all.” He smiled up wolfishly, silently letting Zayn know that he was at least partly in control—that he could dictate this scene and give direction, and that Liam would follow his lead.

“You caught me.” Zayn shrugged awkwardly from his perch atop Liam’s torso.

“So the tattoos are a pain thing, then?” Liam asked, easily flipping himself so he could straddle Zayn’s hips and kiss a long trail down the inked markings.

“Not—” Zayn gasped into the open air as Liam’s lips pressed against his skin. “Not entirely.”

“Not even this?” Liam asked, planting a kiss onto the ridiculously feminine lips inked onto Zayn’s sternum.

“Oh, actually, I got that one drunk. Bad idea.”

“Oh well.” Liam saw fit to bite down, _hard,_ certainly hard enough to leave a mark.

Zayn hissed but his lips turned into a wide smile. “Yeah.” Then he shook his head. “I can’t believe you quoted Nietzsche at me. Never took you for a nihilist.”

Liam considered this for a moment, then moved to pin Zayn’s shoulders to the mattress. “Nah. I’m not into Niall like that.”

Zayn blinked up at him, brows furrowed together.

“Oh my god, your face!” Liam sat fully upright, releasing Zayn’s shoulders with a loud laugh. “I’m not actually illiterate, you realize.”

“I know!” He bucked his hips up, jostling against Liam’s thighs. “I know you’re not.”

“My apologies for not brooding as hard as you do. Maybe you’ll have to teach me.”

“I’m not sure it can be taught. But if you’re good maybe I’ll read you _The Stranger_ or something.”

“Ugh, no. I tried that once and wanted to fling myself off a bridge. I have no clue why my sister thought I’d like it.” Liam rolled his shoulders, loosening the muscles in his neck.

“So for you, God’s not dead, then?” 

“Of course not. I’ve got him between my thighs.”

***

“Budge up, Flick.” Louis handed her a small bowl of broth and a sleeve of saltines, and she took them gratefully.

“No way, Lou. I’m poorly. Sit on the floor.” Felicite pulled her blanket further onto her body and stretched out along the sofa.

“I can’t properly see from the floor.” He planted his hands on his hips with a glare.

“Not her fault you’re a midget, mate,” Harry called from across the room where he sat in an easy-chair, Daisy cuddled into his lap.

“I resent you!” Louis called. “How very dare you. I resent everything that you represent.”

“What do I represent then?”

“Tall people with dimples and fewer than one-hundred sisters!” Charlotte countered from the opposite end of the sofa. “Sisters who are devastatingly brilliant and glossy hair.”

“Sisters, whose vomiting has probably backed up the septic system?” Louis retorted, raising a brow. “Cut the sass, that’s my department.”

“I’m the eldest sibling now you’re being very busy and important in the city,” Lottie pointed out.

“The eldest sibling whose hair I held back as she puked into the sink earlier?”

Lottie muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _screw you._ Then she added, “Sarcasm is the protest of the weakest sort, Lou. I would never.”

Louis looked to Harry plaintively, wondering if he could make someone move so he could have a comfortable seat. He attempted not to be distracted by the decidedly adorable sight of his little sister in his boyfriend’s lap. For all Louis considered himself a family man, he was impressed that seemingly Harry was too.

“Look at this domestic scene,” Louis’ mum murmured into his ear as she entered the sitting room with a bowl of popcorn. “Glad you brought him. May get grandkids out of you yet.”

“Oi, mum,” Louis hissed, recoiling slightly. “That’s not what this is about.”

“I know. I was the one to tell you that boys can’t get pregnant,” Jay pointed out, moving her daughters’ legs aside so she could join them on the sofa.

“They can’t?” Phoebe piped up from her spot on the floor. She was nestled into a deep pile of pillows, but she sounded genuinely concerned. “Not even in pretend, like my dolls?”

“Only in pretend,” Jay amended.

“That’s all right then.” Phoebe scooted herself down a bit, edging closer to the television. “Come sit with me, Louis, I’m cold!”

“That’s because you have a fever,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be mean.” She turned her small face toward him and pouted, looking like a tiny, disappointed angel.

“Never.” He collapsed next to her, grabbing her wrist in his hand. He tried not to jostle her too much as he pulled her into his side, offering her the heat from his body. “What is it, mum? Starve a fever, feed a cold?”

“Is she still feverish?” Jay snapped.

“Just a bit.”

“Here,” Harry offered, “let me grab a few wet flannels. “You wanna help me, Daze?”

“Yes please! Cuz I want biscuits,” Daisy agreed as Harry hefted her off his lap.

“Ugh, why does she feel good enough to eat stuff?” Lottie muttered.

“Probably because she’s the one who got the rest of you sick?” Louis asked, moving Phoebe’s hair off her flushed face.

“That’s not fair,” Lottie countered with a loud huff.’’

“Life is pain, princess,” Louis pointed out. “Plus this way you get off school.”

“It’s the weekend, doofus.”

“And you get the reward of my presence.”

“It’s not worth the headache,” Lottie countered

“I was promised movie-time fun, not illness-induced banter,” Harry drawled as he returned to the room, handing out cool cloths.

“You love my banter.”

“There’s a time for banter and a time for telly.”

“Hush, Cheekbones. No comments from the peanut gallery,” Louis huffed.

“That was weak,” Harry replied.

“Stop flirting and put in the da—the movie!” Lottie demanded.

“Nice save.” Louis yawned and huddled further into the blankets. After four minutes of previews and one minute of actual film, Louis was unconscious.

***

“Oh god, I’m not gonna last,” Liam moaned, feeling stretched utterly open with Zayn between his thighs.

“Tight, fuck,” Zayn growled from above him, angled _just so,_ just perfectly so. Liam needed him and he maybe needed Liam and he was not going to last, not at all.

“Not, no, not gonna—” Liam stuttered, clenching around Zayn in ways he had never experienced and never believed this possible, let alone this pleasurable. He felt like maybe he was dying.

He climaxed onto his own chest, relishing the feeling of someone inside him—of Zayn inside him. It was decidedly new, besides being different and certainly exciting. And scary. And so fucking hot.

“Fuck, you’re so, I can’t either, I just,” Zayn babbled, fireworks bursting behind his eyelids. He came with a ragged growl, tensing from head to toe. Liam grappled at his shoulders, digging his fingertips hard into Zayn’s brilliant tan skin.

“No, me neither, don’t bother,” Liam sputtered in return. “I couldn’t, I can’t. You’re just amazing,” he breathed, exhaling raggedly while trying to catch his distant breath. “You’re always amazing.”

“I’m still, just. Hold on.” Zayn sucked in a breath like his life depended on it. He clung to Liam’s hair with one hand and to his neck with another. “Fuck.” He pulled out of Liam slowly and gently, acting the part of a gentle boyfriend. _Acting,_ Liam reminded himself. He removed the condom and tied it off, throwing it into the bin across the room.

“Yeah,” Liam hissed on an exhale.

“Glad I got over being called a dirty fag during college, mate, because I don’t think most people actually realize how awesome it is to fuck around with a guy.”

Liam stilled. “Not sure how to take that, actually.” He furrowed his brows.

“It’s a compliment?” Zayn responded, voice rising with anxiety.

“Are you—did you get called, like, names? For this? For whatever?”

Zayn rolled aside, flopping onto his back. “If I tell you I don’t want to talk about it, are you going to try to force me to talk about it?”

“Of course not.” Liam cleared his throat and tried to curl into Zayn’s side, despite being taller and bigger and—more. “I just want you to know you can tell me if I’m stepping on something or like being ignorant or like doing something stupid, you know?”

“Right. I’m gonna have to ask you to shut up.”

“What’d I do?” Liam muttered, hoping he’d managed to sound sexy rather than cloying.

“I’m just going to need you to kiss me. And also you’re a twat,” Zayn countered, less incredulous than he was insistent.

“No, not being a twat,” Liam responded in a low voice, running his lips along Zayn’s ear. “Also the language isn’t really improving your cause, in terms of not being a bigot”

“Oh god. I’m too fucked-out to argue,” Zayn said. “Plus you’re probably right.”

“That _twat_ is a gendered insult? Hm, yeah, kind of,” Liam said, biting down into Zayn’s earlobe. “Idiot.”

“Hey now. Stop that.”

“You may have recently stated that you think I’m illiterate,” Liam pointed out, attempting to be relatively fair and pragmatic.

“Not at all. I was simply surprised you’d read Nietzsche. Plenty of literate people haven’t read Nietzsche. Hell, not even half.”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re intolerably literate,” Zayn said next, voice coming out like a calming purr. “Super literate. The most literate ever.”

“Don’t,” Liam said with a small laugh.

“What, don’t soothe your hurt ego? Don’t give you the impression that I actually think you can’t read? Don’t give you endless neck bruises?”

Liam huffed. “I know I’m not illiterate. And if you give me one more bruise, the uni nurse is going to ask me how long I’ve been in an abusive relationship. So,” he trailed off, triumphant.

“So I can soothe your ego, then?”

“Not til my entire body stops throbbing.” Liam closed his eye and continued his futile attempt to catch his breath.

“All of it?”

“All of it, yeah. Not really prone to exaggeration after coming.”

“Prone to it regularly?”

“No. I, well. No. Not prone to it much.”

“Liar!” Zayn called triumphantly. “Like you’ve never told a girl her tits were the best you’d ever seen, or a bloke that his dick was the biggest ever.”

Liam sighed. “May I remind you that you’re the first bloke I’ve ever fucked?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Still not prone to lying, though.” Liam cringed, feeling awkward and set-aside. He moved away from Zayn’s tempting skin.

“Yeah. Your genuineness is working for me. It’s unexpectedly endearing, considering you’re insanely hot. Kind of love it.”

“Stop it.” Liam shook his head and turned away from Zayn, facing the wall.

“No. Won’t. You have a lovely face, and your lovely face does a shit job of hiding things. And yep, I kind of love it.”

“No,” Liam dragged deep from inside his diaphragm. “No you don’t. Don’t lie to me.”

“Not lying.” Zayn shrugged his spine back and forth, knocking their bodies together. 

This would not do.

“You are, though” Liam insisted, closing his eyes tight even as he stared at the long, white wall. “Lying.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Okay, I know you think you’re helping right now, but you’re not. Okay?” 

Liam could not handle Zayn acting like his boyfriend, not now. He could not let himself fall into this, into thinking of Zayn as his boyfriend when that was clearly not what was happening. He was just being nice, of course, a friend who was fucking _hot_ and they were having fun and that was it. He was not a rebound or a boyfriend or anything complicated. They were friends, and Liam needed to remember that.

“I—wait, what?”

“Just, like, saying shit like that.” Shit like he _kind of loved it,_ that was simply not fair.

“Fine,” Zayn snapped. “I’ll never compliment your face again, then?”

“That’s not it,” Liam insisted, frustrated.

“For all you claim that you hate it when people are cryptic, you’re being really confusing. Spit it the fuck out.”

“You’re just being so _nice,”_ Liam said, realizing how stupid it sounded.

Zayn stuttered out a jagged laugh. “So you want me to slap you around and call you names, then?”

“No, not that.” Liam was momentarily struck dumb, trying to find the words to communicate what he meant.

“Maybe I’m being nice to you because I’m a nice person? And it’s just something I do?”

“I’m not trying to insult you, I know you’re nice. That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

“Just give me a second. I don’t know how to phrase it.”

Zayn nodded at him, eyes dark and hooded with something that looked like anger.

“It’s just—it’s not fair to you.” Liam whispered, his voice nearly shot.

“What’s not?” Zayn asked in return, tilting his head to one side in a gentle motion.

“I mean, you’re not my boyfriend, and I can’t think of you like that because it’s not fair to you and I just, I’m sorry.”

Zayn was very, very still at Liam’s side. “Complimenting your face is something only a boyfriend would do?” he responded, confusion in his voice.

“No, that’s not it either.” Liam exhaled. “You said you kind of love my face?”

“I do kind of love your face.”

“But that’s not fair!”

“Yeah, we can’t all have beautiful faces like yours, it is quite unfair.”

“Stop it, Zayn. I’m not ready.”

“Okay.”

“I’m so sorry. It’s not fair to you. Not at all.”

“I’m fine with things the way they are. Honestly. I am.” Zayn smiled at Liam fondly and his chest constricted painfully. “I’m good with things the way they are.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

“But it doesn’t feel fair.”

“To you, maybe. But I’m good. I’d tell you if I weren’t good.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. I already promised to, remember? Idiot.” Zayn huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “But you’re gonna have to let me be myself, and my normal self is nice to hot guys. And to my friends and to my friends with benefits.”

“Um, okay.”

“You’re really overthinking things again. Which is impressive, given that you just got fucked. Unless I did it wrong.”

“You definitely didn’t do it wrong.”

“How would you know? I thought you were inexperienced in the ways of the flesh.”

“I cannot even believe you just said that, Christ. You are ridiculous.” Liam shook his head and tried to cover his quiet laugh. “I’m going to smother you with a pillow, I swear I am.”

“Don’t even pretend with that, mate. I know you were totally one of those kids who didn’t know his own strength and accidentally crushed a puppy with his bare hands.”

Liam gasped. “I would never do that! That’s horrible!”

“I mean, not on purpose, of course. That’s what I mean.”

“Mean. You’re mean. I don’t deserve this treatment.”

Zayn snorted and rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”

***

“No, really. Go to sleep. We’re driving back in the morning and you have class tomorrow. I’m just gonna clean up the kitchen and come join you. It’s fine, seriously.”

They were standing at the bottom of the stairs, Harry looking like a tired toddler who resented being told it was it bedtime. His lip stuck out slightly in a small pout.

“Go to bed, love. Come on. I can’t have you getting sick too.”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, voice gone low with exhaustion. “Okay.”

“I’ll be up in a mo. I just wanna spend some time with my mum, make her some tea and such.”

Harry nodded, face softening. “Night.” He started up the stairs and Louis gently patted his arse with a small smile.

Louis retreated to the kitchen where his mum was waiting for the kettle to boil. “Everyone in bed?” she asked, tightening the belt on her dressing down.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Boo. I’m so glad you were able to come and help.”

“Of course. You know me.”

The corners of Jay’s lips turned up in a small smile. “I do at that.”

“Okay, then. Spit it out.”

“I just—it’s good to see you happy, you know? About time.”

“Mum,” Louis responded, annoyed that he sounded like he was whining.

“That’s all I wanted to say.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all. And he’s really good with the girls.”

“He is,” Louis agreed.

“And I’m glad.”

“Thanks, mum.”


	12. Everything You Do Just Turns Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need sensitivity training, mate, I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY LOVES MY LIGHTS MY DEARS   
> I am so sorry this took so long to post! I've got two other stories percolating like mad, plus I just started writing my dissertation proposal... BLEH! But I hope you like the update and I promise to work on this more often than this past month allowed <3  
> xx

“You need sensitivity training, mate, I swear.”

“I’m sorry, am I not allowed to use the term ‘the gays’ if I actually belong to that minority group?” Louis asked with a laugh on the drive back to London.

“You’re only mostly gay,” Harry pointed out, shifting goofily in the passenger seat.

“You’re dictating my sexuality to me? Really? You’re a terrible gay.”

“Oh. Oh, sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

Louis laughed. “You’re hardly rude. I just felt like mocking, you mop-headed giraffe.”

“I am not ever a giraffe.”

“Baby horse?”

“What.”

“Beautiful amazing swan?”

“I give up.”

“Me too, sorry,” Louis admitted. “Plus stop distracting me, I’m driving.”

“Want road head? I’m an expert, I am,” Harry murmured, voice gone predatory. 

Louis marveled at his ability to switch from darling-starchild to sex-god in under four seconds. “I, well. That is, I’d probably drive us off the road if you actually did—” Louis began, stuttering to a stop when Harry shoved a hand into his pelvis.

“Then pull over. Now.”

Louis did so, figuring it better to take direction from Harry than to die in a fire on the motorway.

“I don’t—” Louis began with a breathless pant as soon as he banked away from the main body of traffic. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea, boyfriend. I mean, you’re driving, though, so if you want to keep going, that’s fine.”

“What if we get arrested?”

“Honestly?” Harry replied with a tiny grin. “I’ve talked my way out of two parking tickets and three speeding tickets. Reckon I might be able to tell a copper that my boyfriend’s emotionally distraught or sommat.”

“Oi.”

“That he just got some bad news and we’re ever so sorry but we just got overcome with emotions and it’ll never happen again, officer.” He ground the heel of his palm into Louis’ dick, eliciting a small whine. “It was an accident, I promise, I won’t do it again.”

“Styles, you will be the death of me,” Louis grunted, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and on the road ahead of them, despite their being stopped on the pavement.

“You’d look good in a copper’s uniform. Gonna have to remember that. Maybe invest in one?”

Louis groaned low in his throat, turning on his signal and made to change lanes, causing Harry to hum in encouragement. “I swear I’d probably walk into traffic for you,” he muttered.

“No, that’s a terrible idea,” Harry whispered, just loud enough to make Louis shiver. “Too pretty to walk into traffic. Pretty pretty.” He unbuttoned the fly on Louis’ jeans. “Impatient, Lou. Need you to hurry up, please.”

“I’m almost pulled over!” He moved to the side of the motorway and turned on his hazards, and then he grasped Harry’s wrist in his hand. “Fuck, what are you even doing with me?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, voice gone low and gravel-sharp.

“I mean clearly all those police officers were charmed by you. Sure you don’t wanna go—like, find one of them? Dig the power play kink or whatever?”

“You’re a dumbass.” Harry scrabbled harder at Louis’ trousers after removing his own seatbelt. “I’m here because I want to be, and I’m gonna need you to at least pretend to believe that.”

“Sorry.”

“I like you so much. Probably too much.” Harry shoved his hand deep into Louis’ pants. “So stop undermining our relationship with low self-esteem or whatever ill-timed joke that was. Stop trying to talk me out of it, okay?”

“So single-minded, you are.”

“Single-minded to a fault. Now let me suck you off and stop whining.” Harry leaned in closer and planted a kiss on Louis’ stubbly jaw.

“No promises,” Louis answered, succumbing slowly the honeyed feeling of happiness that filled his chest.

***

“No, come on, I’ve been dying to see this movie, I know you have too,” Liam said, voice just short of a whine.

“Of course I have. Robert Downey, Junior is a god among men,” Zayn replied from just inside his bathroom door.

“Exactly. Which is why you need to let quit it with the death-grip on your—what is that, pomade? Let it go.” Liam tried to grab the small pot from Zayn’s slack grip, but he dodged away with a laugh.

“I’m almost done, promise.”

“Come on,” Liam pleaded, shoving his bottom lip out into a pout.

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “No way. Don’t play that game, mate. Don’t you pout that mouth at me.”

“Me? Really? You’ve been making seductive faces into the mirror for twenty minutes. It’s all I can do not to jump you right now.”

“What? Right now? When we have Tony Stark waiting for us?”

“Yeah. Now and kind of all the time,” Liam retorted with a smile. “I am a red-blooded male with eyes, after all.”

“Sweet talker, you are.”

“I do what I can. Now hurry up, please. Unless you’d rather I fuck you against the bathroom door and we go to a later showing.”

“I’m swooning.”

“I’m just saying. I’m not giving you a handy during the movie. I intend to pay attention to every moment of this film.” Liam rubbed his jaw contemplatively. “So you know.”

“You’re just hoping to see RDJ shirtless.”

“Like you’re not.”

“Not denying it.”

“It’s weird,” Liam mused. “Talking about guys without—” He grappled for words. “Without feeling like I need to lie, I guess. Or hide something. It’s weird.”

“No, I understand.”

“So, like. Have you been out for long?” Liam paused, pursing his lips. “Sorry, that sounded way more awkward than I meant for it to.”

“It’s fine. I guess it’s been—since I was seventeen or so. Unofficially and then officially when he outed me during chemistry class.”

“What a dick.”

Zayn shot him a rueful smile. “He did have a nice dick, to be fair. Only redeeming factor he had, really.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you—well. Are you okay with doing this with me? Since I’ve never been with guys. Before you. So is that weird?”

“No,” Zayn said slowly. “Is it weird for you?”

“No, I’m just—I’m playing the checking-in game, because apparently I didn’t do that enough in the past and I don’t really wanna fuck up again. You know?”

“Okay, you’re even more of a worrier than I originally thought. Gonna need you to dial it back. For a minute, just enough to hear me out.”

Liam sucked in a breath. “Go.”

“You are full-on idiotic, which I have tried to tell you before. I’m fine with this situation and your situation and you being who you are. And if I weren’t fine, I would tell you. And I need you to trust that.”

“Right.”

“And also I’m gonna need you to stop acting like you’re someone’s nan or a nervous girlfriend. It’s making me twitchy.”

“Sorry.”

“I know. So how does my hair look?”

“Perfect, of course,” Liam said instantly.

“You didn’t even look at it.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“Sap.”

***

“Holy shit,” Louis moaned, clutching the headrest with one hand and fisting his own hair with the other. Harry’s head was in his lap and his mouth was open and warm, and he was practically lapping at Louis’ cock with his lips and tongue. Louis was coming undone.

Harry smiled before hollowing out his cheeks, fisting the base of Louis’ dick. Louis arched his back, breath gone shallow. Harry’s lips detached momentarily, mouth coming off with a dirty _pop._

“Fuck, but your mouth is filthy,” Louis muttered, shuddering despite himself.

Harry pulled off. “Douse me in holy water and make it official,” he whispered before moving back to Louis’ dick.

Louis lost the ability to breathe, and he came hard with a guttural groan, moving his hand to the back of Harry’s head. Harry carried him through, swallowing down everything Louis offered. Then he pulled off and shot a dirty smile, chin still in Louis’ lap.

“Glad we pulled over then?”

“I need to let you talk me into things more often.”

Harry snorted. “You rarely take much convincing, to be fair.”

“I’d be insulted, but that’s pretty true.” Louis ran his fingers gently through Harry’s hair. “Wish you didn’t have to go to work.”

“Eh, you can pay me back some other time.”

“Do you accept fruit baskets?”

“I do. And cookies.”

“Right. That’s good to keep in mind.”

They sat still for a small collection of minutes. “Your heartbeat returned to a normal speed yet then?” Harry asked with a dirty smirk.

“Not this whole time we’ve been together, actually. Can’t think straight around you,” Louis admitted. “You drive me a little bit crazy.”

“Good or bad crazy?”

“Good crazy. Definitely.” Louis bent forward and planted a kiss on Harry’s forehead. “Thanks for coming with me for this. It was really nice of you. And really unnecessary.”

“Doesn’t need to be necessary to still be a good idea.” Harry curled up into a seated position, ruffling his hair into something mildly professional looking. “Your mum offered to adopt me when she hugged me good-bye, which I count as a win.”

“Traitor.” Louis tucked himself back into his clothing.

“Hey.” Harry looked away to buckle himself into his seat. “This—like this wasn’t too much too fast, was it? Or anything?”

“Um. I was worried it might be, but no. Not at all.” He gave Harry a small smile, which was immediately returned.

“Good. Are you going to buy your extremely charming boyfriend a burger and chips before he expires of hunger and thirst?”

Louis rolled his eyes but complied, unutterably fond.

***  
“How are Zezza and Periwinkle, then?” Liam asked as Zayn let him into his flat.

“Don’t call me that,” he replied without malice, rolling his eyes.

“You can call me Periwinkle if you want. That’s rather adorable, that is!” Perrie called from across the room.

“Cheers. It’s cuz of the hair, yeah.” Liam headed toward the sofa and coffee table, setting down a large bag of Chinese takeaway. “Got your kung pao, Per. Z, I know you said you didn’t want anything but I got you hot and sour soup and chicken lo mein if you change your mind.”

“You’re a doll!” Perrie proclaimed, ripping into the bag gleefully. “I am currently your biggest fan.”

“You’re not tall enough to be my biggest fan.” Liam frowned.

“Oh my god, you total idiot,” Zayn groaned, flopping onto the couch.

“Whatever. Budge up, I’m starved,” Liam responded as Perrie handed him a box of rice. He snagged a plastic container of sesame chicken and dropped onto the couch beside Zayn. Opening up some chopsticks, he ate voraciously.

“Shit, kid, slow down or you’ll choke,” Perrie demanded furrowing her brows at him as she settled neatly into an armchair.

“I don’t really have a gag reflex,” Liam replied with a shrug.

“Lucky bastard,” she said, tossing a balled-up napkin at Zayn’s head.

Zayn smirked. “What the hell do you care?”

“Hm.” She considered this. “Is it fun having a dick?”

Liam and Zayn laughed at that. “I’ve never not had one. Can’t really say,” Zayn said.

“It’s fun,” Liam insisted, taking another bite of chicken.

“Like you don’t own one or more in a series of fun colors,” Zayn added with a small smile, popping open a bottle of beer.

“Silicone and strap-ons aren’t entirely the same thing as a penis.”

_“Oh my god.”_ Liam spat out a piece of chicken and shot Perrie a wide-eyed glance.

“You remember I’m dating a girl, right?”

“Yes,” Liam croaked.

“Attaboy.” She winked at him before returning to her food.

Zayn cleared his throat. “Right, so you’re gonna wanna eat quick and clear that shit up so we can get started, yeah?” He gestured to the other side of the room where a series of cans and canvases and pieces of particleboard were stacked.

“Hey, this food is not shit. It’s the best takeaway in town,” Liam complained around a new mouthful of food.

“He’s right. It’s fucking delicious,” Perrie agreed with her mouth full.

“Gross. You’re both uncivilized swine.”

“Why? Because I eat rather than reserving all my energy to brood about spray paint?” Liam asked, practically inhaling his next mouthful of chicken.

“You’re both talking with your mouths full. It’s off-putting and uncultured.” Zayn reclined against his chair, frowning. “And I do not brood over spray paint.”

“Manly brooding. Very masculine, sexy brooding,” Liam countered with a smile. “But still brooding.”

“Maybe he’s not brooding, maybe it’s that his body’s too exhausted to move much because he refuses to refuel it like a normal person,” Perrie suggested, pausing to swallow a mouthful of food.

“I am a normal person.”

“No you’re not,” Liam and Perrie intoned in unison, voices abrupt and quiet.

“Jesus, you lot, won’t you just lay off please?” Zayn snapped.

After a pause, Liam said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Perrie maintained, finishing up her food.

“You realize this is my flat, right? I kind of don’t like being maligned in my own home.”

“It comes from a place of love,” Perrie argued, tossing her rubbish into the empty takeaway bag.

“Or something like it,” Liam mumbled, embarrassed. He knew Zayn wasn’t in this for love or for a boyfriend or for anything other than friendly sex, really, and that was _fine,_ it really was. It was fine.

But some part of him knew Zayn wasn’t fine.

“Ugh,” Zayn groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, fine. Nearly done. No need to brood over wasted paint.” Liam threw his hands in the air dejectedly, peering down into his food container.

“I have never in my life wasted paint, I’ll have you know.”

“Do you do whippets with the spray cans once they’re empty?” Perrie asked delightedly, collapsing into Zayn’s lap.

“No!”

“But you’ve tried, though. Haven’t you?” she asked with a sly tone, curling her face into his neck.

“Have not,” he muttered, frowning.

“Totally did. You’re such a thirteen-year-old girl. I love it.” She grinned, swiping one thumb along his jaw.

“Are you gonna eat your soup?” Liam interrupted, mouth still full. He pulled the small Styrofoam container closer to himself and popped the plastic lid off it, peering into the bowl.

“Have at it,” Zayn offered, upending Perrie from his lap. He moved to grab paint from across the room. “Not hungry.”

“Right.” Liam put the bowl to his lips and drank the soup quickly. “Not hungry.” He wiped his lips with the back of one hand, throwing his rubbish into the bag with Perrie’s.

“Paint!” she yelled, clapping her hands together swiftly. She knelt beside the canvas, eyes wide.

Zayn rolled his eyes but collected his supplies anyhow, settling along the floor near a stretched canvas. “I want a room for this someday, you know. Just this, like? To paint on the walls or the floor or wherever I want.”

“Wouldn’t you get brain damage, like? From the fumes?” Perrie asked.

“Wouldn’t matter,” he answered with a small sigh. He cracked the lid of a small paint can, dipping a brush into to before handing both to Liam. Darting to one side, he collected a spray can and shook it languidly. “Go crazy.”

“How—” Liam began, brow furrowed.

“Don’t think. Just do.” He smiled indulgently as Liam tentatively splattered paint along canvas, creating deep blue splotches that…didn’t look like much, really. His first masterpiece simply looked like abrupt blue splotches on a stretched canvas.

“Um,” he muttered, turning to Perrie and Zayn, who were watching him without comment.

“It’s a good start,” Zayn assured him, handing Perrie the spraycan.

“What color is this?” she asked, now eyeing the canvas.

“Red.”

“Good.”

He and Liam watched her scoot closer to the canvas, leaning down to consider it. She looked askance at Zayn, who quickly showed her the proper pressure to place on the nozzle of the can, which angle to hold it—more than he had taught Liam, really, though all Liam had done was splatter paint onto fabric.

It looks like less of a disaster than one might expect, their first experimental piece. Perrie had handed the spraypaint to Liam when she finished, watching him with curiosity as he attempted elaborate curlicues along the edge of the canvas. She only snorted once, and Zayn refrained from mocking him at all.

“Mate, this is harder than it looks,” Liam muttered, biting his lip.

“I tried to warn you!” Zayn answered with a laugh. “Took me ages to figure it out.”

Perrie snagged the can of blue, dipping the brush in with consideration. She added a great deal more paint, working without much care as far as Liam could tell. He added more red once she was done, curling streaks along the top of the canvas and trying not to ruin anything. Zayn popped open another can eventually, adding black currents to the red-and-blue mishmash already on the canvas.

“Be back, need the loo,” Perrie called, standing up quickly before scampering out of the room.

Liam leaned back against his heels, looking at their work as it stood. He set his can down, nearly upending the full container of lo mein that Zayn hadn’t touched. Liam’s eyes itched a bit, his throat and nose burned from the paint, but he found he kind of liked it. It was good hurt, he thought.

“Hey Zayn?”

“Yeah.” Zayn tipped his head to one side, shaking the can in his hand.

“Why don’t you eat?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you eat? Is it just around me or something?”

Zayn’s body went totally still, and Liam knew he was in dangerous territory. “I do eat.” His voice was dead-calm, angry.

“Zayn.”

“I do eat sometimes.”

“Do you? Have you, like, any time recently, mate?”

“Don’t be glib, Liam.”

“I’m—no, I’m not, I just—” Liam swallowed jaggedly, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Zayn shrugged his shoulders easily, refusing to turn around to look at Liam. 

Every world felt perilous.

“Are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t fine?” Liam muttered, mouth dry.

“Why would I do that?”

Liam gaped. “Excuse me?” he whispered, hoping he hadn’t heard right. He hoped he had misunderstood.

“Why would I stop eating? I mean really. That’s ridiculous.” Zayn turned, giving Liam a bright-shiny smile, shaking the can manically. 

Liam blinked, his breath unhitching in his chest. “Zayn.”

“Yes?”

“I can see your hipbones.” He dropped his eyes to the waistband of Zayn’s jeans, t-shirt clinging tight to his abdomen and torso.

“You love my hipbones.” Zayn smirked, biting his lip like Liam’s world wasn’t ending.

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m fine, Liam.”

“So it’s not—you don’t like, not eat just around me?”

“I eat.”

“I haven’t seen you eat in months.”

Zayn’s eyes went cold, his jaw set. “I wasn’t aware you watched my every movement these past months. My mistake.”

“I didn’t—that’s not—”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t mean it like that. You’re not my caretaker or my babysitter, all right? You’re not my—fuck, you’re not my husband or something, shit.”

Liam reeled, obviously stung. “Right. You’re right.” He sat backward onto his hands, deciding whether or not to scramble to his feet. Pathetically, he said, “I’ll just go then.”

“No!” Zayn quickly snaked a hand out, clasping Liam’s wrist. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

“Sounded kinda like it.”

“Stay. It was fun. For a while, wasn’t it fun?”

Liam closed his eyes. “Sure. But—I mean. Are you going to get mad every time I ask after your well-being?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“It is, though.”

“You can ask after my well-being.”

Liam pulled out of Zayn’s grasp gently. Taking a breath, he said, “Whatever you say.”

Zayn puffed out a sigh. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get—huffy like. Please.”

“Can’t help how I feel.”

“And I can?”

Liam grimaced. “I—just want you to be okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“It seems like you’re lying.”

“Think what you want,” Zayn scoffed, tossing the spraycan to one side. He scrubbed his hands over his face, sighing.

“Really? That’s how this is going to go?”

“Guess so.” Zayn moved to one side of the room, opening the drawer of a side table to remove spliff, already rolled. He dragged the lighter from his pocket and lit it, eyes dark.

“Right. Call me when you’re ready to talk about it, yeah?” Liam scrambled to his feet, not daring a glance behind him. He stormed out of the flat, eyes burning and throat raw. As he shut the door, he wondered if he was making a mistake.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, my loves. It's been ages since I wrote fic, and I'm fairly new to the fandom. So if you see mistakes, let me know and I'll do my best to fix them! This is a fairly fluffy fic for now, but my goal is to make my friend cry--she really loves Larry, mkay. Comments and criticism appreciated!


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